


Tip of the Tongue

by starkind



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), DC Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arc Reactor Angst, Attempt at Humor, Betrayal, Bruce Feels, Comfort/Angst, Crack Treated Seriously, Deviates From Canon, Emotional Hurt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hilarity Ensues, Identity Issues, IronBat - Freeform, M/M, Male Slash, Memory Alteration, Mind Games, Out of Character, Palladium Poisoning, Post-Iron Man 2, Tony Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:28:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 24,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4005865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkind/pseuds/starkind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Bruce are friends. Kind of. What could possibly change that?<br/>Then again, there is always room for improvement...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Really wanted to try my hands at writing something hilarious for once, ended up with this. Oh, well. 
> 
> Takes place after IM1 and BB, but deviates from most events happening in IM2. Oh, and Tony is already experimenting with the technology seen in IM3, because of... reasons.

Tony Stark had always been intrigued by the walking enigma that was Bruce Wayne.

There was something about the younger man's sophisticated, yet mysterious allure that seemed to draw him in whenever certain circles had them cross paths ever so often; a fact the Californian billionaire welcomed and the Gothamite dreaded. Especially at first. With the help of Jarvis and his own genius mind, Tony, new-found superhero by the name of Iron Man, soon came to realize the true reasons behind Bruce's strange behavior.

On the one hand, there was an inane and ditzy Brucie to please the outside world; on the other hand, there was reclusive and withdrawn Wayne Jr when he thought no one else was looking. The third character to add to the mix was none other than the mysterious Batman – and Tony Stark was even more enamored than before. Wayne had the brains, the background, and the body to go with everything he wanted in a man.

It was just his luck that Bruce did not share his fondness for becoming partners, any which way. After Tony straight out told Bruce his magnificent deductions regarding his secret persona, the latter first tried to deny. Upon realizing it was a lost cause in getting Tony Stark off his back, however, he resigned to his fate and began to treat him along the lines of keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer ever after.  
  
It was not what Tony had had in mind for them, but Bruce steadfastly refused to let him into the hardest part underneath all that leather and Kevlar, no matter what. Wayne protected his heart as much as his secret identity, and he intended to keep it like that. At some point, however, Bruce at least began to develop a certain kind of tolerance towards Tony and his loud, flashy and boisterous Iron Man personification.  
  
Behind all of that, Bruce saw there was a true genius who was able to do great, if only he eased down a little on the eccentricities. They became acquaintances of the rich and erratic kind and stayed in touch, though not on a regular basis. Most times, Tony would swing by Wayne Manor to show off the latest of his gimmicks. Even more, he preferred those rare occasions when Bruce paid a short visit to his own mansion, to benefit from Jarvis' sheer unlimited resourcefulness.  
  
Compared to Malibu, Gotham City was a miserable hellhole of the drizzling kind, and even if the Wayne scion never admitted it aloud, Tony knew Bruce loved the sun and the ocean outside his villa as much as he did. One fine Saturday afternoon, the two of them had traded sunshine for the basement workshop, seeing Bruce wanted to test out some of the enhancements Tony had suggested for his latest works on an EMP gun.  
  
The Californian genius himself was experimenting with ways to assemble his latest prototype armor via cognitive control. The conversation between them was highly technical and, as usual, full of amicable mockery and spurring. In the background, Jarvis played one of Tony's many playlists over the surround-sound system. Upon Bruce's insistence, no heavy metal. Tony, however, had refused to listen to classical pieces.  
  
The middle ground was a classic rock compilation, and so Deep Purple's 'Perfect Strangers' resounded through the vast working area. While he bopped along to the beat and the voice of Ian Gillan, Tony blew a stray curl of hair off his forehead and eyed the silent-working man opposite from him. After he had watched Bruce's nimble fingers set up his gear for the longest time, Stark went for another tease.  
  
“Y'know, EMP's so last year, Waynster. Won't affect my suits in the latest. Lame-o, with capital O.”  
Bruce ignored him while he prepped his weapon, muzzle upwards. It snapped shut with a click.  
“Care for a demonstration then, Tin Man?”  
  
High up on the gallery of his many suits, Tony made a sweeping gesture, full of audacious drama.  
“Sure, come at me, bro. But don't complain to me when your precious toy gun gets broken.”  
Wayne's mouth twisted into a sardonic grin. Without warning, he aimed for Mark V and fired.  
  
The EMP gave a small crackle before Bruce lowered the gun seconds later and locked it again. Both men examined the unharmed suit, then Tony ordered Jarvis to analyze the potential damage. “Mark V has taken no harm in its electronics, Sir.” Before Tony had time to turn his smug grin towards the Gothamite, the AI intervened once more.  
  
“However, Sir, it seems as if the information stored in the RAM has undoubtedly been corrupted.”  
  
A flow of colorful curses could be heard as Tony went up to manually initiate a reboot of his armor.  
“Looks like your suit's kind of last year, Tony, so sorry about that. Need help with fixing it?”  
Miffed, Stark closed the chest plate again and turned around to where Wayne still stood, smirking.  
  
“Okay, punk, playtime's over. I'm gonna show you who's the boss round here. Jarvis? On standby.”  
Stark fumbled with a sleek looking headset and adjusted it until its visor sat right in front of his eye.  
“Watch this, Bruce.”  
  
An outstretched hand and two seconds later, a gauntlet flew through the workshop. It attached to Tony's wrist in a smooth motion and with a gentle, metal snap. The genius inventor then held up the gauntleted arm, formed the devil's horns with it, and threw his bewildered guest a shark-like grin. “Looks good, J, send the rest. Then Mark 42 can smash Brucie's EMP here to smithereens.”

Bit by bit, pieces of metal began to whirr through the air. Some attached to Tony's body, others did not. After the first part of a shoulder pad had hit and cracked the showcase with Mark I in it, Stark was quick to duck. A few more parts whooshed through the workshop at high speed, undeterred at their creator's attempt to time-out the procedure with various gestures and verbal commands.

That was when Wayne decided it would be wise to move out of the way. He placed the EMP gun aside and made a move for the workshop's entrance. What he had not foreseen was the second titanium shoulder pad that whizzed through the air with swerving motions, bounced off the bulletproof glass doors and hit him square in the head.

In horror, Tony then watched how Bruce Wayne dropped to the floor like a rock with a dull, heavy thud.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“Oh shit, not good, not good! Jarvis: Power down – immediately!”  
The AI complied without hesitation, and all parts clattered to the ground.  
“Bruce? Fuck! BRUCE!”  
  
In an instant, Tony sprinted over to where the Gothamite lay sprawled on the floor, face down.  
Panicked, Stark touched his shoulder and gave it a little shake. No reaction whatsoever.  
“Jarvis!? Give me a status!”

Eyes firmly locked on the unmoving man, Tony held two fingers to Bruce's neck to search a pulse.  
“C'mon buddy, wake up, hey.”  
The AI took a few seconds to process its task.

“Mister Wayne has taken a serious hit to the right side of the head. My scans register a swelling at the temporal lobe, but no open wound. His vitals are a bit erratic, but not at an alarming rate. I assume he will regain consciousness within minutes.”

Tony settled down in a crouched position and kept his fingers on the throbbing artery underneath Bruce's skin. He considered getting in his suit to move the taller man into another position, but before he was about to risk Mark 42 to go crazy on him again, a weak groan erupted.

“Bruce? Bruce! Can you hear me?”  
Wayne began to move around a little and groaned again. Tony took his hand away.  
“Uh. What... happened?”

His voice sounded normal if a bit shaky. Bruce then proceeded to push himself up to his knees.  
“You've gotten whacked by Mark 42. Part of it I mean. Easy there, you took quite a hit.”  
Tony steadied his friend, all the time scanning his countenance for abnormalities.

“Mark who?”  
  
Once they were in a standing position, Bruce began to sway backward. Tony was quick to steady and lead him over to the leather couch in the back. Wayne was still quite pale around the nose, so Stark went to fetch a small bucket which he placed within Bruce's reach.

“Nevermind. I'm gonna get you some ice and water, okay?”  
The cross-eyed glance Bruce tried to cast his way worried him. He should end up being right.  
“Ugh, I think I'm going to be...”

When the Gothamite bent forward to vomit into the bucket, Tony frowned with concern. He instructed Jarvis to keep tabs on Bruce while he surged up the stairs of his workshop and headed for the kitchen. Frantic, Tony dug through his enormous designer fridge for an icepack. He could already see the headlines flash at him before his inner eye:

 _'Prince of Gotham whacked upside the head by Iron Man. Biggest lawsuit of the decade expected'._  
  
Pepper would throw a ginormous fit. Alfred would demand the keys to the manor's main entrance back. And Bruce would never, ever even consider to go out on a date with him after all. Not in this lifetime. Once Tony had found what he was looking for, he raced back down.

Bruce meanwhile had at least stopped throwing up and turned on his back instead, eyes closed. Careful, Tony inched next to him onto the couch and put the ice pack on the nasty bump on Bruce's temple. His breathing was even, but flat, and Tony remembered one rule of concussed patients. Gentle fingers then patted Wayne's cheek.

“Don't fall asleep on me there, buddy. Stay awake until I'm sure you don't need to puke anymore.”  
With effort, Bruce blinked his eyes open. It took a few tries until he was able to focus on Tony.  
“Wha' hit me?”

The shorter billionaire gave a contrite scrunch of his face. He continued to dab the injured area.  
“My latest creation. Okay, I admit, it sucked. Big time. You won this one, hands down.”  
Bruce gave a short, pain-filled grunt and closed his eyes again, as it made him less dizzy.

“Don' understand. Lemme sleep. M tired.”  
About to doze off, Wayne soon felt a hand lightly slapping his cheek once more.  
“No can do, Bruce. Keep those peepers up and on me, c'mon. Just a little while longer.”

It required great effort, but the Gothamite managed to comply with Tony's insistent wish. A thin trail of melted ice ran down the side of his face and vanished in the collar of his polo shirt. After another ten minutes, Bruce eventually shifted and pulled a face at the disgusting taste in his mouth. Tony put the icepack aside to fetch the glass of water for him instead.

At first, he tried to hold it while the other man drank, but Bruce surprised him by taking the item with a steady grip. He took two sips and another swig to rinse his mouth, then Wayne handed the glass back. Stark was relieved to see his motion sequences go back to normal. Bruce mustered him, curious, and narrowed his eyes.  
  
“Now tell me again: What happened, where am I, and most importantly – who are you?"

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Traumatic amnesia is often transient, but could also be permanent, Sir. It is related to the degree of injury. The sufferer may also lose knowledge of who people are.” Tony paced along the living room in circles. Bruce was now upstairs, resting in one of the guest rooms of the mansion, after Jarvis had verified it was not dangerous to let him sleep his concussion off.

“You did scan him for internal injuries, J, didn't you? Or do I need to take him to hospital?” If he was honest with himself, Tony would have preferred not to let anyone in the know. A visit at the hospital would lead to questions amass, and he did not want to give his assistant a call. Pepper deserved her weekend off, without having to wrestle PR stuff about an amnesic Gothamite.

“Mister Wayne does not display any internal injuries after the hit. Still, his concussion could cause him to experience a longer period of amnesia. How long remains unclear at this point of time.” Stark took a glass out of the built-in cupboards and muttered a few curses. “Many forms of amnesia fix themselves without being treated, Sir.” Jarvis held an optimistic tone. Tony snorted all the while pouring himself a scotch.

After he had downed it in one gulp he slammed the glass back on the counter with a hiss.  
“Then we'll just have to play it by ear, as usual. Time to find out what's left on his hard disk drive.”  
Even as Tony skipped up the stairs into the private area of his mansion, Jarvis' voice followed him.

“Sir, be aware though not to mention any negative events whatsoever. From what little data I was able to receive in Mister Wayne's case, it seems like repressed memories have been unconsciously blocked, due to the memory being associated with a high level of stress or trauma.” Banister in hand, Tony stopped on the last but two steps and glanced sideways.  
  
“Uh-huh. No sad childhood stories, got it.”  
With caution, Stark opened the door a crack and peeked inside. Wayne was awake, so he entered.  
“Hey champ, how are you feeling?”  
  
Bruce looked up at his visitor. At the way Tony beamed at him, a small smile appeared on his lips.    
“Hey. Not too bad I guess. Slept a little, don't feel sick anymore.”  
When Tony sat down on the edge of the bed, Bruce studied his features with curiosity.  
  
“Even if I'm sorry for asking again – who are you exactly?”  
Stark waved him off with more exuberance than he actually felt.  
“There's nothing to be sorry for, Bruce. And I'm Tony. Tony Stark.”  
  
Even though Wayne tried to appear confident, it became clear he was anything but.  
“Nice to meet you. Or rather... see you. We've probably met before.”  
Tony's nod was of the rhetoric kind.  
  
“Well yeah, you're at my crib. Which is in Malibu, California. Real nice place to hang.”  
More than a little lost, Bruce blinked and gave a slow nod. Stark blew out his cheeks.  
“Let's try and collect some more facts here. Do you remember anything prior to your accident?”  
  
At that, the Gothamite first looked thoughtful, then crestfallen.  
“Sadly not. You said my name is... Bruce?”  
Inwardly, Tony counted to five, willed his nefarious mind and motormouth to dial it down a few notches, and cleared his throat.  
  
“Yup. You're Bruce Wayne from Gotham City. That's the city with the most shittiest fair weather ratio. We're chilling at my place most of the times, for reasons.” When the Gothamite showed no recognition at the mention of his hometown, Tony eyed the bruise on his temple. It had begun to turn from red to dark purple.

“So we're good friends then?”  
Bruce's question was kind of self-conscious. His opposite was quick to confirm, enthusiastic.  
“Very. It's that whole rich-dudes-with-high-IQ's-and-hot-looks-thing. We're two of a kind, really.”

“... I'm rich? Really? How rich?”  
A vague wobbling motion of Tony's palm was his answer.  
“Together we're probably richer than this whole damn country, but, eh, what's in a few billions.”

Wayne's eyes went wide as saucers.  
“That's... a lot.”  
The child-like innocence prompted Tony to chuckle. He began to warm up to the current situation.

“Sure is. Anything else you'd like to know? Age maybe? You've turned 33 this year, grasshopper.”  
The slight twitch of Bruce's eyebrow did not escape Tony's scrutiny. It looked eerily familiar.  
“Which makes you older than me, I reckon.”

Assured that Wayne's sarcastic streak at least still worked just fine, Tony bared his teeth at him.  
“Very funny. Hope and pray you're still looking as hot as me when you're in your prime, kiddo.”  
Bruce smirked and began to muster the fingers of his left hand.  
  
“No ring. I'm not married, I assume.”  
It was then that Tony Stark's genius mind went renegade.  
A smug, dirty grin grew on his face.  
  
“No, we're not. At least not yet.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

“I am...? We are...? For... how long? I mean.... have I always been, uh...”  
With a deep, impatient exhale Tony placed one leg across the other and jiggled his sneakered foot.  
“Gay, you mean?”  
  
Bruce looked as if he had been sucker-punched. Tony made a dismissive wave.

“Well, honey bear, I think the term 'selectively interested' might be a little more apt. We did have our fair shares with both genders alike, but in the end, we got stuck with each other. And rightfully so.” The Gothamite began to massage his temples, but winced and drew back when he touched the sore spot on his right. With slow movements, he then slid back down into a horizontal position on the mattress.

“God, please let all of this be a nightmare from which I soon wake up.” Amused, Tony watched him draw the blanket over his head. Muffled breathing could be heard. “I think I... need a moment. Alone. I can feel another headache coming up.” For the briefest moment, upon hearing the devastation in those softened words, the Californian billionaire pondered whether to amend his bold statement and tell Bruce it was just a joke.

Tony Stark would not be Tony Stark if he backed down from a challenge, however. Therefore, he slapped his thigh and stood up.

“Course. Call if you need anything – painkillers, food, water...”  
The covered heap shifted a little to the side, away from him.  
“A hole to crawl into and die would be good.”

A little miffed at the open dismay, Tony put his arms akimbo and glared at the bedside.  
“Hey now, I feel like this is getting personal here. I'm not exactly a toad, y'know?”  
The blanket moved until a tousled head reappeared. Wayne looked downright miserable.  
  
“Sorry, I... didn't mean it like that. It's just I... it's all a bit much right now.”  
As fast as Tony's discontent had come, it vanished upon hearing the despair in Bruce's voice.  
“No hard feelings, sugar, you rest some more and we'll talk about anything else later. Okay?”

Relief washed over the younger man's features.  
“Okay. Thanks.”  
Once Tony stood outside and had pulled the door shut behind him, he let out a huge breath.

Maybe the whole thing had not been such a stellar idea after all.

For certain, it was going to rank high upon the list of things he had better left undone. It was about time to ask that one, special person in his life for help; the one who had a lifelong subscription on that lovely long laundry list of lapses, slip-ups, and missteps of his. If he was honest with himself, Tony Stark already had a distinctive gut feeling on the outcome of his next phone call.

* * *

“Pepper, heyyy. Listen up, there's something I need you to do for me... no, it's not that. No, I didn't. Hey, I would _never_... sheesh, would you let me finish!? We have a little, unplanned situation here...“

After Tony had explained all events up to the accident, he had to hold the phone away when a shrill cacophony blared at him for a good five minutes. He switched the phone to his other hand and ear. ”Darling Pep, what I need you to do now is call his butler and tell him Bruce stays for a couple of days. Tell him I talked him into a... mini-vacation or something. Al always wants him to take some time off anyhow, he won't suspect a thing. In the meantime, we'll think of something.”

More yelling erupted on the other end. With his phone on the outstretched arm, Tony bobbed his head along to the bits and pieces he understood. Words like 'crazy', 'no way' and 'serious' being the most prominent ones. After the torrent of words seemed to have lessened, he dared to put it close. “Dear Miss Potts? That would be all. Thank you, love you, you're wonderful. Later!”

Pepper Potts arrived at his mansion a little less than an hour after his call, dressed in a casual combo of black yoga pants and matching sweatshirt. Her hair was up in a sporty ponytail, and her cheeks flushed red. The latter might have been due to the news Tony had just bestowed on her.

“Okay, I think I really need to get this right here: You hit Bruce Wayne with your suit, caused him a concussion, and erased all of his memory? And now you want me to call his butler to tell him Bruce is staying here for a vacation? Are we sure you didn't bump your head somewhere?”

Tony exposed white teeth at her in mock-laughter and crossed muscular arms in front of his chest.  
“Jarvis said it's supposed to wear off after a day or two. After that, we're back to normal. Kinda.”  
It was the way he mumbled the final part that caused Pepper to frown. She knew him all too well.

“Kinda? What do you mean... kinda?"  
A blueish vein began to pulse underneath her fair-skinned temple. Tony watched it with interest.  
“Um, yeah, well... I might or might not have told him we're engaged as well.”  
  
Pepper all but reeled and gripped the kitchen counter with both hands. She took a deep breath.  
“Pardon me, but I just heard something completely ridiculous. Please, can you say that again?”  
Interested in the marble tiles, Tony kept his gaze down and stubbed sneakered toes against them.  
  
“I dunno, it just happened. Here I was, telling him who he was, and before I knew it, I proposed. In a way. No, actually I must've done that way before, from what I've told him. Yeah. Haha. That's that. Funny, huh? Who knew I'd ever want to get married. Pep... you need some water? Pep?” The billionaire eyed the certain paleness around her freckled nose with concern.  
  
Pepper Potts then suppressed a small scream upon seeing the tall figure standing on the last few steps. Tony swung around to follow her gaze. A rumpled looking Bruce Wayne stood there, one hand on the banister, and seemed somewhat distraught. “We... um, might need to call a doctor after all. I, uh, think God just spoke to me. Apparently, he's... British.” At that, Tony actually laughed out loud.  
  
“Yes and no. That's just Jarvis. He's to me what Al – that's your butler, but I'll explain that later – is to you. Only that Jarvis is an artificial intelligence. He's nearly everywhere around this house. And, technically, that makes me God, cause I created him.” Pepper had recovered enough to hide her groan behind a polite cough. Tony threw her a pointed look.  
  
“Whatever. Tell me though, do you feel worse? If you need a doctor, we of course can...” At the prospect of not having turned crazy, Bruce looked relieved and shook his head no. “If hearing voices is normal around here, I'm good. Just a bit woozy still.” His eyes then came to rest on the svelte redhead who stared at him with large eyes. “Who is your company?”  
  
With a huge, shark-like grin, Tony grabbed Pepper by the shoulders. She all but jumped.  
“Meet Pepper Potts, my invaluable, personal assistant. She came by after hearing what happened.”  
Despite his less-than-stellar day, Bruce managed to muster up an honest smile which she returned.  
  
“My pleasure. You have a lovely assistant, Tony. I probably said so a couple of times, but...“  
Pepper Potts; unflappable queen of managing the walking chaos that was Tony Stark, actually blushed.  
“Why, thank you, Mister Wayne.“  
  
The Gothamite tilted his head ever so slightly. “Please, call me Bruce. It's just as strange, but at least less formal.” He threw a furtive glimpse to where Tony lingered and gnawed on his soul patch with his front teeth. “... she can do that, can't she?” With an emphatic nod, Stark reassured him. “Course. She used to do so before. Pretty sure she even likes you more than me.”

He ignored the glaring daggers Pepper shot at him and thew her a sickly-sweet smile instead.  
“Oh, Pep, hon, I believe there's a phone call that still needs to be made?”  
  
With all of her professionalism, charm, and the fact that Alfred Pennyworth had always been favorably inclined to her, Pepper managed to give a thoroughly convincing story as to why Bruce Wayne was going to stay at the Stark household for a little while longer. When she was done granting them some time to restore things back to normal, Tony honored her efforts with the promise of being his chief bridesmaid.

He had to duck for cover when a moleskin agenda got thrown his way, missing his head only by a couple of inches.

 


	5. Chapter 5

A day after Bruce Wayne had become Tony Stark’s fiancé by accident, the Gothamite began to discover several things.  
  
Once his headache had ebbed off and he went to explore the mansion, his astute mind registered he had traveled extremely light in terms of extra clothes. “I didn't bring anything along?” Quick to dispel his concerns, Tony summoned Pepper to go on a special shopping tour. An hour later, Bruce found himself decked out in denims, t-shirts and, upon Tony’s explicit wish, hoodie jackets and sweaters.  
  
“I still don't get why I don't have any things around here.”  
  
They both stood in the dressing room adjacent to the master bedroom. In disbelief, Bruce stared along the endless rows of designer clothes, all measured to fit the shorter man by his side. Deciding offense was the best defense, Tony pointed an index finger at him.

“My words exactly! I keep on nagging you to leave some of your stuff around here like LDR couples do, but nooo, you always said you liked your things all in one place, and buying double doesn't make sense. Which is kinda cute, since you could have a fully equipped wardrobe in each of your and my residences, and still not suffer from financial failure. You're just too economical for a man of your caliber, hun.”

Distracted by Stark's motormouth, Wayne just nodded along, absent-minded. Then he looked up.  
“LDR?”  
A confused and cute looking Bruce was something Tony thought he could definitely get used to.  
  
Inwardly, Stark slapped himself on the shoulder for having circumnavigated another hot topic.  
“Long Distance Relationship. Which is what we're doing, with you in Gotham and me in Malibu.”  
Thoughtful, Bruce tugged the zipper of his black hooded sweater jacket up and eyed the other man.  
  
“So we're always traveling cross-country to see each other? That... sounds complicated.”  
Satisfaction was written all over Tony's expressive countenance.  
“Now we're talking, sugar. Maybe your little mental stunt is going to spur your flexibility after all.”

Even if he allowed Stark to lead him out of the dressing room, Bruce Wayne heard a quiet little voice nagging him something felt wrong. He did however not voice his doubts about why his former self had felt the need to have kept things running the way they did. Downstairs, something else then caught his attention. “What's that?” Bruce pointed his chin towards the driveway in front of the mansion.  
  
Tony craned his neck to follow his vision. The dark convertible still stood where Wayne had parked it upon his arrival. “Your ride. Sometimes you take the Lambo, sometimes the Honda from the airfield to here.” A distinct part of Bruce Wayne still held his fascination for fast cars and motorbikes. He was quick to all but drag his Californian counterpart outside to examine the luxury sports car from close up.  
  
Tony stood aside and chewed on his gum while Bruce walked around it two times.  
“What a beauty. It's really mine?”  
Stark then popped a bubble and bounced up and down on his feet, impatient of such trivia at hand.  
  
“Not that bad a set of wheels, for sure. I personally would've gone for something else, but – yeah.” The way Bruce continued to peek inside as if it was an exhibition item eventually made Tony smile. Because of his sincere enthusiasm, Wayne looked more the actual young man in his early thirties than the grim and dead serious stoic he used to represent just mere hours earlier.

Just then, Bruce straightened up from where he had been hanging over the driver's door.  
“Holy shit!”  
His carefree laughter and the way his eyes sparkled made something inside Tony itch to kiss him.

“Wanna take it out for a spin? Down the highway and back?”  
Bruce's non-gelled bangs flopped onto his forehead as he nodded with vigor.  
“Hell yeah!”

Pepper Potts was just in time to see and hear the Lamborghini peel out of the circular driveway, burning rubber on its way down to the main road. She was gone once the two men returned, two hours later; their hair rumpled by the airflow of the convertible and with manic grins on their faces.

* * *

“Maybe you should give her a call?”  
Bruce turned around in mid-stride to lock the car before he shoved the keys into his jeans pocket.  
“Who? Oh - no, let her have the rest of her Sunday. Or do you feel uncomfortable being alone with me?”

At Tony's leering, Bruce unconsciously brought the massive kitchen counter between them.  
“No, it's just – it was quite rude of us to leave without a word, and, well, I thought she'd be mad.”  
The genius inventor looked as if he pondered the possibility of someone being mad at him at all.

“Course not, she's Pepper. How's this – we'll order some grub and you get to pick a movie for tonight?”  
Wayne looked down and began to trace the edge of the counter with a finger.  
“Sure, okay.”  
  
Thirty minutes and one large quattro formaggi from a star-struck pizza delivery boy later, the two of them sat in Tony's so-called arcade room. Bruce watched how Stark made wiping gestures at what looked like a giant virtual movie collection hovering in mid-air. “Any movie you'd fancy in particular? Action? Romance? Porn?”  
  
Once he realized his innuendo made the Gothamite uncomfortable, Tony sighed and threw himself into the big sofa with a resigned sigh. He propped his feet up and grasped for a huge slice of pizza. “Can't go wrong with an evening of Star Wars then. But original trilogy only, my top condition.” Upon the lost expression on Wayne's face, Tony did not even attempt to hide his indignation.  
  
“Really? Oh, come on – it's a classic! You're so in for it now, Waynster; we're going to close that educational gap.”

Six and a half hours, three movies and a polished off pizza carton later, Bruce knew all about Jedi Knights, the Force, and lightsabers. As the end credits rolled over the big screen at a little after midnight, he then could not contain his yawning any longer. Tony turned his head towards him. “I just did you a huge favor in getting back on track with modern pop culture.”  
  
Bruce's mouth twisted in a lopsided smirk.  
“Yeah, I liked it. Even though that bit about them being twins was... eh, a bit weird.”  
During the whole time they had been watching movies, Tony had kept his distance, as hard as that had been for him.  
  
Hoping his chaste strategy had paid off, he scooted nearer and placed an outstretched arm behind Bruce on the headrest. “As a kid, I was so enamored with Princess Leia – especially with her in that slave outfit. These days, however, I'd rather go for the tall, dark scoundrel with the roguish attitude.” The fingers of his right hand began to draw circles on Bruce's well-developed deltoid muscle.  
  
The latter promptly gave a small jump and moved to get up from the couch.  
“I still prefer to sleep in the guestroom, if that's okay with you. Don't get me wrong, though, I....”  
Tony kept his face even, despite the disappointment that resonated with him.  
  
“Sure, fine, yeah, go ahead. You've always been the worst bed hog anyhow.”  
Wayne looked fairly dejected, but still wished him a good night and slipped out of the room.  
Once the door had clicked shut behind him, Tony slammed a fist into the cushion next to him with force.

 


	6. Chapter 6

They were going strong into week two of Bruce's amnesia, and so far, the Gothamite had shown no signs of recognition whatever. They were still sleeping in different bedrooms, and Tony's mood had worsened considerably with each new day. On Monday morning, he, therefore, decided to get up early after another restless, lonely night, and swim a few rounds in order to clear his mind.  
  
Downstairs, the sight of his trusted assistant greeted him. Dutiful as always, Pepper had arrived at Stark Mansion at 6:15 am and sat in front of her notebook on a bar stool, sipping on her Starbucks to go. Tony moved past her with an amicable poke to her side. “Morning, Potts. What up?” When she acknowledged him with a noncommittal grunt around her cup, Stark tsked out loud.  
  
“Huh, not your mood apparently. Suit yourself.”

The red-haired woman eventually looked up from her screen and regarded him with disdain. “I received two calls from Alfred over the weekend. _Two._ We need to reassess the situation, Tony. I can't and I won't go and fool Alfred again. He keeps on wondering why Bruce's mobile is turned off, and why he hasn't spoken to him in person. I refuse to be a part of this sham any longer.”

Stark just shrugged as if he did not have a care in the world and cast her a look over his shoulder.  
“In for a penny, in for a pound, Potts. But you're right, he needs to give Al some word of mouth.”  
Pepper got up to follow Tony onto the patio where he discarded his shirt and took a header into the pool.  
  
She watched him dive under and followed his fast disappearing figure with her eyes. Used to the Stark scion to neglect the business part of his life for as long as he lived, Pepper was perfectly able to cover, deflect, or decide most situations by herself. Nevertheless, she also had long since decided her by far sumptuous salary did not include dealing with situations like the present.

“I also have a lot of emails and calls regarding Iron Man's frequent absence these days.”  
  
Tony had reached the other end of the swimming pool. His dark head reappeared, shaking off the excess water from his eyes and forehead. He then hinged his elbows onto the rim behind him to be able to watch her. “Gimme a break here, Potts, you always said you hate when I get my butt shot out of the sky all the time. Now you want me to do what – attend a supermarket opening? Ring the bell at the NYSE?”

Two clear blue eyes narrowed in on him as Tony came back towards her, executing a perfect crawl.  
  
Once he touched the wall to her feet, he hooked his upper arms atop. The stone tiles darkened from the water he sloshed over the rim, so Pepper stepped back to save her expensive Jimmy Choo's. “I think with each new day yo keep on locking yourself and Bruce up in here, pretending to be something you both are not, is going to make things worse. Take that any which way you like.”

Tony cast an angry look upwards which Pepper returned with equal vexation. The billionaire then wiped a wet hand over his face. “I don't remember having asked for your opinion, Potts. Feel free to mind your own business for the rest of the day. Or the rest of the week, actually.” They continued their stare-down for another few silent moments until Pepper pinched her lips shut.  
  
“Have it your way, Mister Stark. But don't come running when everything comes crashing at your feet.” He pushed himself out of the pool and climbed up. Water ran down his legs and onto the concrete. “But that's your goddamn job, Potts, to keep me from fucking shit up!” Pepper turned to give him an ice-cold stare over her left shoulder.  
  
“No, Tony. You've gone too far here, and it's not on me to set this right. It's time for you to fess up.”  
  
Part of Tony knew she was right, despite the fact her condescension angered him beyond belief. Once his assistant had left the premises, he did the first thing on his mind, which was not confessing the truth to Bruce Wayne. Instead, Tony Stark suited up on Mark VI and headed out, looking for trouble and a release to his pent-up frustrations.  



	7. Chapter 7

When he touched down at the mansion over twelve hours later, his armor mangled and barely functional, there was no Pepper around. Tony's pride forbid both him and Jarvis to give her a call. He peeled himself out of the suit with great effort and dragged his bone-tired body upstairs into the bathroom. “Sir, it does seem you would benefit from medical attention. I don't see why Miss Potts is not...”

With shaking fingers, Tony turned on the faucet. The sink immediately filled with red splotches. “Shut it, J, I'll be good. Initiate the confinement protocol 019 and leave me alone.” No other option than to obey his creator's command, the AI went into silent mode for the upcoming two hours. Being not careful enough, Tony then knocked down the toothbrush cup from the shelf. It clattered into the sink with a loud noise.

Under mumbled curses, he tried to put everything back in order.

“... Tony?”  
A hesitant knock on the door. The billionaire scrunched up his face in defeat, and pain.  
“Yeah, sorry, I just dropped something. Go back to sleep.”

Some shuffling outside was heard. Then Bruce cleared his throat.  
“Is everything alright? There's some red stains on the carpet here... can I come in?”  
Tony squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Eventually he sighed and turned the lock around.

When Bruce poked his head in, Tony gave him a weak grin. His upper teeth were tinted with blood.  
“Damn you and your light sleep.”  
Wayne stared at him like the proverbial deer in the headlights and glanced at the bloodied mess.

“Gosh, what happened to you? Where do all those bruises come from?”  
The Gothamite came nearer and took a closer look at Tony's battered face.  
“Will you stop asking questions when I tell you I fell down the stairs?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”  
Tony let out a sigh and attempted to turn away. His swaying got Bruce to grab a hold of his arm.  
“Then I won't tell you.”

Once Stark faced him, Wayne let go of him as if he had been burned and did two steps backwards, eyes glued to a certain spot below Tony's neck. It occurred to the genius inventor that Bruce had never seen his ARC reactor up close; least not glowing bright and blue under his neoprene undersuit, until now. “Oookay, this is even harder to explain than the rest, methinks.”  
  
Tony's voice sounded weak as he proceeded to get a hold of the small zipper at the back of his neck. “Actually, I... don't think I want to know. I... think I should just leave you to... whatever you're doing.” From the way Bruce started to inch backwards and scan his surroundings for a possible way to escape, Stark knew he needed to act fast. With a pain-filled grunt he lowered his arms and braced himself on the sink.

“Help me out of this here first?”  
  
After an initial moment of hesitation, Bruce stepped up behind him and pulled down the zipper with care. “Shouldn't you go to a hospital? Your back looks pretty banged up.” Uncertainty lingered in Wayne's voice. Wincing, Tony managed to roll the upper part of the fabric down to his waist. His skin underneath was smeared wet from both sweat and blood of a dozen scrapes.  
  
Bruce took a look in the mirror and stared long and hard at the reactor embedded inside his fiancé's chest. “Nah, I'll live. Happens ever so often, no biggie. I just need to get cleaned up a li'l, then sleep.” A dizzy spell caused Tony to miss when he reached out to turn off the faucet, but Bruce's arms were there just in time to prevent him from cracking his head open on the sink.  
  
With a muffled curse, the Gothamite hoisted him up and slung an arm around his midriff to steady them both.  
“What you need to is lie down now. Have I ever been here while you fucked yourself up like that?”  
Weak Tony allowed to be dragged into the adjacent room, and eased into the pillows with a groan.  
  
“No. Call Pepper, she knows the deal. I switched off Jarvis for a couple of hours, he'll be no help.”

* * *

One distressed call from Bruce, and Pepper Potts arrived at the mansion no fifteen minutes later.  
  
Her initial anger all gone she took both the first aid kit and the space next to Tony on the bedside. By his own wish Bruce left the bedroom to wait outside, wanting to give them space during their routinized procedures. “I leave you alone for a day and you come home a bloody mess. What were you thinking?” Tony hissed as she dabbed with an antiseptic cotton swab at the cut in his cheek.  
  
“Dunno. Seemed like a good idea at some point.”  
With care Pepper then tended to a laceration above his brow.  
“I swear to God, Tony, that's what it's going to say on your epitaph.”  
  
He gave an almost bashful smile. “I tried to tell him, Pep, really did. Only got to the part where he knows now I've got a built-in nightlight tho.” The red-haired woman brushed at a sweated strand of hair with mollified affection. “At least you've stuck with your penchant for making dramatic revelations there.” The billionaire gave an affirmative tug of the mouth. His eyelids drooped shut even as he did.  
  
“Sleep now, rest. We'll see about anything else tomorrow.”  
  
He barely registered the soft kiss she pressed upon his forehead. Outside the room, a distressed looking Bruce stopped pacing once Pepper pulled the door shut. “Can anyone finally tell me what's going on here?” The redhead graced him with a compassionate look. “I think we both can use something to warm us up from the inside out now. Let's go downstairs.”

And so that night, over two steaming mugs of hot black tea, Pepper Potts let a clueless Bruce Wayne in on the fact that Tony Stark was the infamous Iron Man; despite or because of all of his misconducts in the past. The Gothamite took the outlandish news as composed as possible, though the furrow between his brows grew. “Have I known before I lost my memories, Pepper? Have I tolerated him risking his life like that?”  
  
Bruce's reservation was palpable as he ran a finger along the rim of the cup. Pepper swallowed.  
“Yes, of course. Tony was always upfront about his... non-secret second identity.”  
Thoughtful, Wayne ground his jaw, and Pepper watched him for any signs of recollection.  
  
When he searched for her gaze again, she held her breath for a couple of seconds. Then Bruce smiled, honest.  
“This better be the last big surprise he's got in store. I'm... engaged to a superhero. Who knew.”  
After a moment, Pepper Potts cocked her head to the side. Her eyes fell on the graphite desktop.  
  
“Well, with Tony, one doesn't know for sure, Bruce. One does never know for sure.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guess I should put up a little warning sign here: The following two chapters consist of inappropriate substance abuse (which the author does not endorse), magnifying OOC-ness, and general hilarity not usually associated with either of the protagonists.
> 
> (Maybe this is the closest I'll ever get to writing crack, idk)

Once his superhero persona status was out in the open, Tony allowed Bruce to accompany him downstairs into his workshop to show him his iron legacy. Part of him had anticipated it would trigger the Gothamite's neurons and synapses for the better, but apart from Wayne having the biggest nerdgasm of his life upon seeing the suits up close for the 'first time', nothing happened.

'Nothing happened' also seemed to be the motto during week two of the Stark-Wayne household. It eventually led Tony to some serious soul searching. He meanwhile was not even sure whether it would be better if Bruce did regain his memory, beat the shit out of him for playing a charade and just left, or if they continued to be stuck in the present state of limbo.

Before his moping got the better of him, Tony decided to switch to drastic measures.  
Maybe a deliberate loss of control was all it took to make some progress, any which way.  
And so, around 2 am at the beginning of week three, they got shitfaced like no tomorrow in his ample backyard.

Where Gotham's dark, rigid vigilante had never even looked at things that hampered his cognitive senses, Tony Stark was downright impressed by how Bruce Wayne's uncorrupted, jaunty other self was surprisingly good at rolling a blunt. They were sprawled out on two deck chairs on the patio next to the large crescent-shaped pool, dressed in swim shorts and t-shirts.  
  
An impressive collection of Mountain Dew bottles, ripped-open packs of Skittles and Reese's, other jelly candy and salty snacks was strewn all around them. All in all, it was the most juvenile and most amazing afternoon Tony had spent in a very long time. His original plan consisted of only getting Bruce to loosen up a bit with the quality cannabis he had organized.  
  
His own, wild past times with drugs had, of course, included minor stuff like marijuana, but Stark figured he himself would not be affected by it nowadays. Once the genius had finished his very first joint in years, his original plan got abandoned real quick. From across the open patio doors, the silliest playlist to ever grace the surround-sound system of Stark Mansion blared out loud into the garden.  
  
They were taking turns in picking ridiculous songs out of Jarvis' infinite music library; from Queen over to ABBA, from reggae to classic rock 'n roll oldies. It turned out that Tony Stark, self-proclaimed classic- and hard rock fan, was able to execute a magnificent choreography of 'Dancing Queen' high atop his recliner, with a Mountain Dew bottle serving as makeshift microphone, and his t-shirt knotted together underneath his ARC.  
  
His show prompted Bruce to raise his arms in the air and wave them along to the rhythm while laughing himself silly around his joint. Afterwards, Tony challenged his guest to follow suit. It took some prodding and teasing, but in the end, the genius inventor was sure he would forever cherish the mental image of Bruce Wayne, flat on his back and giving the greatest playback performance to the sounds of 'Bohemian Rhapsody'.  
  
All memory loss aside, the Gothamite had the lyrics down pat. His air guitar solo and the headbanging part also were nothing short of impressive. Once Tony had finished applauding him, he fished for another handful of chips. Then he paused, examined one in particular and gave a harrumphing grunt. It prompted Wayne, who meanwhile lay on the designer recliner upside down, to raise his head.  
  
The smoldering stub of his second joint still hung between his lips, even though Tony wondered how Bruce was able to smoke in his position.

“Whatisit?”  
Stark waggled the corn chip in the air.  
“I just realized: Doritos would taste just the same without the powder. Amazing, huh?”  
  
Bruce performed a rather clumsy half roll and twist until he was prone on the recliner, facing Tony.  
“Amazing, yeah! .... what's a Dorito?”  
For a moment, Tony had to think hard about that question. And regarded the corn chip intently.

A split second later he then chugged it into Wayne's direction with indifference.  
“Forgetaboutit.”  
Bruce nodded, took a final drag on his joint and threw it into the empty Mountain Dew bottle below.

Stark watched him exhale the smoke through his nostrils. Before he had the chance to ask him to hand over the plastic bag and the rolling paper, the serene voice of his AI echoed across the patio. “Miss Potts is approaching the main entrance, Sir.” As if on cue, the music turned down several notches, and the faint clicking of stiletto heels could be heard.  
  
Alarmed, Tony swung into an upright position, stumbled, and all but fell off the recliner straight onto his behind. It caused Wayne to laugh out loud with malicious glee. “Oh shit! Shuddup, man, where's the rest of the pot? Hide the goddamn pot, Bruce!” The Gothamite attempted to roll over on his side and took turns peeking underneath their recliners.  
  
“Uh. Dunno. T'was here somewhere.”  
He broke into a snorting giggle the longer he watched how frantic Tony tried to clear the mess around.  
“Chill, Tony. Heyyy – anyone ever told you that your name spelled backward is Y Not? Y. Not!”  
  
Succeeded in cracking himself up again, Bruce slid down onto the ground and held his stomach. With a frown, Stark ran a coated tongue over his teeth, his palms over his face and through his hair, and tried to clear his head. He had not planned to get high but figured he still was able to wing it in front of his assistant. Bruce, on the other hand, was completely baked and would not be of any help.

His arms full of packages and bottles, Tony swayed on his feet from indecision.  
“Can it, loser face 'n help me out here.”  
From his place on the ground, between the two deck chairs, Bruce cast him a stupid grin upwards.  
  
“Attitude, Tony, what's with that attitude? Relax a little, c'mon.”  
Stark ground his teeth and decided to simply dump and push the clutter underneath his deck chair.  
“If Pepper finds out, she's gonna go attitude on your ass, Waynster. Get up, shut up and behave!”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Once the red-haired assistant had walked along the large lawn up to where they lounged, she fastened her eyes on the two men on their deck chairs. By that time, both were sitting up straight and beaming at her. She eyed the pile of snacks underneath Tony's recliner with curiosity. “What's going on here? You guys having a party?” One of the dark heads nodded eagerly while the other negated with the same vehemence.  
  
The scene repeated vice versa, and Pepper raised a suspicious eyebrow as Tony punched Bruce's upper arm. “Haha. Err, just casual Friday, Pep. Hey so, what's up?” The redhead bit on the inside of her cheek to hide her underlying amusement. “I see. Well, I hate to interrupt, but I have to insist that Bruce calls Alfred today.” Her stern voice and look caused the Gothamite to nod along with eager empathy.  
  
Pepper then turned around and headed for the mansion. Before she disappeared inside, she looked back over her shoulder at their still ramrod straight profiles. “Oh, and Tony, by the way – it's Monday. If you're done having fun with Puff the Magic Dragon and have returned to adulthood, please come in and sign some paperwork for R&D.” Bruce placed his arms behind his head and cast his partner in crime an impish glance.  
  
“She owned you, man, she owned you.”  
Stark waved him off with a snort and a curl of his lips.  
“S just your fault she noticed. No more weed for you in this lifetime.”  
  
At that, Bruce pouted like a teenager. Eventually though, his face lit up again soon after. “But Tony... with a Y... Why not?” Their mutual laughing fit almost caused them to double over. Then Tony grabbed his forearm and put up a very serious face. At least as serious as he was able to. “No, but for real. Even your butler's worried I'm corrupting your morals, Bruce. Call him now, get it over with. Here's my phone.”  
  
While he stared at the sleek device Tony held out to him, insecurity lingered on Wayne's face.  
“I don't know... what am I supposed to tell him?”  
The other billionaire waved the StarkPhone about.  
  
“Just tell him you're doing fine and want to chill out with me a few more days. That's all."  
When Bruce continued to look unconvinced, Tony all but shoved the phone in his hand.  
“Do it, c'mon.”  
  
Bruce chewed on his bottom lip while he waited for the connection to build up.  
“Hi, um, this is Bruce...”  
The Gothamite glimpsed to where Tony sat and gave him an encouraging thumbs up sign.  
  
“Yeah, I'm still at Tony's place. No, a little longer. Yes, everything's cool. How are you?”

Unbeknownst to him, Stark scrunched up one side of his face. He was pretty sure the old Bruce never expressed so much interest in his butler's well-being. Or used such casual language. Meanwhile, Bruce seemed to feel a little more at ease. At some point, he even broke into a laugh. Tony frowned. “Okay, sure, I'll do that. Of course. Haha, no, you're funny, Al. Gotcha. Take care, yes, bye.”  
  
Tony Stark could practically see the ginormous question mark forming upon Pennyworth's head.  
“I'm pretty sure you've never called him Al before.”  
Trying to hide his own discomfort, Tony met Bruce's puzzled expression with a quick grin.  
  
“Oh. You've been calling him that at some point, so I thought...”  
Tony waved him off with one hand while the other took the phone back and cast it aside.  
“S fine, no worries. Where were we? Ah, yes, music. Jarvis, put the needle on the record!”  
  
Before Tony could intervene, Bruce fished the little plastic bag from the waistband of his swim trunks and waved it at him in triumph.  
"Tada!"  
Their third joint in two hours was a collaborative project.

* * *

Soon enough, the Gothamite stood atop of Tony's recliner with his legs spread apart, struck a fairly good Elvis pose, and caused the Californian billionaire to roar with laughter. When Bruce then began to move his hips to 'A little less conversation' nothing short of seductive, however, it ultimately made Tony horny beyond belief. He tried in vain to grope for the elusive man.

“Damn tease, stop making promises you can't keep.”  
Angelic, Bruce pursed his lips and pointed at his own chest.  
“Me? It's the king's words, Tony, not mine. Are _you_ looking for a little more action maybe?”

His naughty smirk increased when he noticed Stark's growing discomfort. Tony snarled. "Stop it and get down here, y'hear?" Bruce did neither and made some come-hither gestures with his index fingers instead. When Tony tried to reach up to him with a growl and a curse, Bruce was quick to escape with a hop over to his own recliner. "Nah, ah, ah. All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me, Tony."

The Gothamite continued to ream it in with a mouthed “Satisfy me baby”, and the peeved genius then found he had been ridiculed long enough. Without warning, he tipped Bruce's recliner with his right foot. His kick, while with minimal force, still caused the younger man to lose his balance. Tony watched Bruce take a backward dive straight into the pool, with flailing arms and a mighty splash.

Horrified at first, Stark's expression quickly morphed into a hysterical laughing fit.  
He sat up, about to laugh into Wayne's face, but wondered why the other man did not re-emerge.  
“Bruce...?”  
  
Tony swung his legs over the recliner and peeked down into the pool. When he saw the other man drift face down in the water, he lost no more time and scrambled in. The pool was less than six feet deep, but people had drowned in less. Frantic, Tony reached out for the body and pulled him up. With one arm around Bruce's torso, Tony grabbed his chin and stared at his closed eyed countenance.

Just then, Wayne inhaled and, before Tony knew what was going on, spit a mouthful of warm water right into his face. “Gotcha! Serves you right for pushing me.” Disgusted, Stark let go to cover his eyes. Bruce wiggled in Tony's one-armed embrace and wiped a hand over the wet bangs on his forehead. “You're a little shit, Wayne. That wasn't funny. At all.”  
  
Once the genius had recovered from the shock, he cast his opposite a sullen look. The Gothamite pushed out his bottom lip in mock remorse. Tony then clawed his hands into Bruce's soaked t-shirt and pulled him closer. “I didn't even get to give you mouth-to-mouth. Bummer.” Bruce blinked and tilted his head at the same time. “You would've dared to drown me just for a kiss?”  
  
Tony gave a heartfelt nod. The other man furrowed his brows, indignant.  
“That's... nothing to be proud of.”  
At that, the shorter billionaire looked contrite for a second or two.

“Yeah, uh, guess not. Sorry, or something, I dunno.”  
Bruce then glimpsed down to where Tony still had a hold on his shirtfront.  
“I would've given it to you for free anyhow.”

And so, Tony Stark received his very first, very wet kiss from Bruce Wayne, in the corner of his swimming pool; stoned to the brim.  
  
The smell of chlorine was in his nose as Bruce's moist lips began to move on his, probing at first, then a little bolder. Tony could taste a faint lingering of gummy bears when their tongues touched and loosened his grip on Bruce's wet shirt to wrap his arms around the other man's torso. That was when Tony Stark found out by accident how very ticklish Bruce Wayne, in fact, was, under all of his usual dark armor and glum behavior.  
  
The younger man broke free with a bursting giggle and warded off the nimble fingers when Tony tried to provoke the reaction another time. Before things could get too romantic or compromising, they ended in a huge water splashing battle. When Tony got down from his high many hours later, regarding the sleeping young man across from him on the living room couch, he thought it was not too bad a memory after all.  
  
At least not until Bruce Wayne had to spend the rest of the evening and most of the night worshiping the porcelain god. Not only did it once more rob Tony of his chance to get Bruce into his bedroom, it was also Pepper Potts who had to drive to the local 24-hour pharmacy to get something against nausea and vomiting.

Upon her return, she made sure to confiscate the near empty bag of weed from her boss for good.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise it does not get any sillier than that. Consider this little digression over and done with.


	10. Chapter 10

No two days later, an agitated personal assistant stormed into the workshop of her employer. “Tony – you need to come up, quick.” At her unusual hastiness, the inventor pushed the goggles up into his hair and stood up. “What's wrong?” Pepper inhaled deep through her nose and fixated him with a worried glare. “Alfred Pennyworth is here.”  
  
At least Tony managed to scrub his hands and face clean with a rag before he followed his assistant upstairs. There, the elder man stood, ramrod straight and poised, next to the large couch in the living room. “Alfred, hey, surprise surprise. What brings you to my humble abode?” Pennyworth eyed him, then the redhead in the back, and focused on the Californian billionaire.

“I received a peculiar phone call from Master Wayne yesterday afternoon. May I speak to him?”

Tony noticed the intense way Alfred sized him up in his grubby wifebeater-and-denim combo. In the past, he had been a welcomed guest at Wayne Manor; Alfred seemed grateful when the elder billionaire was around to keep his protege from brooding along on his own. “I think he went for a swim in the ocean half an hour ago. Pep, dear, could you get Alfred here something to drink? I'll have a Gatorade, orange.”

Even though Pennyworth tried to decline, Tony made him accept a glass of water and sat him down on the couch. He ignored the pointed look Pepper threw him when he plopped down with his oil-greased jeans on the crème-colored leather sofa and suckled on the plastic bottle of his sports drink. “Mister Stark, I do apologize for my unannounced visit, but recent events led me to believe something is amiss.”  
  
His most winsome grin on display, Tony oozed composure and self-assurance.  
“Amiss, hm? Well, you're not wrong. But the good news is that everyone's gonna benefit from it.”  
It took them ten minutes to bring Alfred up to date. All the while, Pennyworth kept on shaking his head.  
  
Tony had to refrain hard from asking him if he wanted a stiff drink or, alternatively, a Xanax. Once they were finished, the butler wore a scolding look. “Master Wayne not only has no recollections of his previous life, but also assumes you to be his fiancé? Mister Stark, of all things, this is not something I can endorse. If you are unable to tell me how and when the situation is going to be fixed, I cannot help but to file a lawsuit.”  
  
Pepper, who had sat aside and listened along for the most part, now felt the need to step in.  
“I do hope we don't have to make it come this far, Alfred. After all, Bruce and Tony are friends.”  
The butler eyed her calm face with an equally stoic expression.

“Certainly, Miss Potts. But the state of evidence here speaks for itself. Mister Stark has not only put Master Wayne into this situation, he has also taken advantage of him after. That is inexcusable.” Before Tony could go off on a tangent, his assistant turned to him and put her hand on his arm. “I'm sure whatever Tony's reasons for his decision may have been, harming Bruce had never been one of them. Am I right?”

Stark harrumphed and made a move to free his arm from her hand.  
“Why does everybody think of me as the bad guy here? All I did was tweak shitty reality a little.”  
Pepper pinched her red lips together tight for a moment.  
  
“Because Alfred's right, Tony. What will happen once Bruce regains his memory? He will feel betrayed.”  
With arms crossed in front of his chest, Tony glared in turn at the butler and at his assistant.  
He ground his jaw for a few moments, then raised his chin in defiance.  
  
“So both of you are just trying to make him miserable once again. That it? For fuck's sake, life's just granted the guy a second chance to get his shit together without the whole childhood drama and misery thing – and you're telling me to downright dump all of that crap on him again?! No way, Jose!” Pennyworth regarded the raging billionaire with a thoughtful look. Then he tilted his head.  
  
“While your motives are indeed noble, Mister Stark, you are acting out on false pretenses regarding the aforementioned engagement. I feel that Master Wayne has not been granted rightful approval.” Tony sprang up, enraged, and jabbed an index finger at the butler. “He's _happy_ , goddammit! Maybe for the first time in ages! That's all that matters in my book, kay?”  
  
For a moment, neither of them said another word. Then the nearest wall panel began to blink blue.  
“Sir, you asked me to inform you of Mister Wayne's impending return. He is at the front door.”  
Alfred flinched upon hearing the AI's disembodied voice for the first time. Tony gave a glum nod.  
  
“And not a moment too soon.”

At the sight of a sun-kissed Bruce Wayne with damp hair tousled by wind and water, all of them fell silent for a moment. The Gothamite wore black neoprene pants and a bright blue shirt with some daring print on it. He had not bothered to shave his face clean for the past few days; especially after Tony had confessed his liking for a rougher version of him. Stark then smiled with affection.

“Bruce, hey. There's someone here to see you. Alfred's come all the way from Gotham to visit us.” Tony's voice was light on purpose; he did not have the heart to start things on a bad note. Bruce smiled an honest, endearing smile and stepped forward, about to extend a hand. He then stopped briefly to wipe his palm down the semi-dry shirt first, a little embarrassed.

“Hello, how nice of you to come by. Sorry I was just outside, surfing. Amazing waves today.”  
Too stunned to reply, Alfred took his protege's hand and stared at him. Pepper and Tony shared a quick look in the back.  
Once the butler had given his charge a once-over, he inclined his head.

“Master...Wayne, I am glad to see you are doing well.”  
A dazzling look of delight splayed out on Bruce's tanned features.  
“Oh yeah, I am indeed. Taking a few days off wasn't such a bad idea after all.”

Bruce then laid curious eyes on his supposed fiancé.  
“So, is Al...fred's gonna join us for dinner then? You've got time to stay, haven't you?”  
The way Tony cast the butler a pointed look left Pennyworth no choice but to nod in acceptance.  
  
“Of course, Sir. I would be delighted to.”  
A beam of light lit up said man's face. Pennyworth just stared at it, a fact Bruce did not notice.  
“Great! I just want to hop in the shower to get rid of the saltwater. Be with you in ten, okay?”  
  
When the Gothamite bent forward to place a quick kiss upon Tony's cheek, the shorter billionaire felt as if a thousand one-armed bandits went off and had hit the jackpot at the same time. He ran his fingers along Bruce's bare arm and patted it with affection. "Sure babe, go ahead. Take your time.” Once the energetic, thumping steps had vanished around the corner of the first floor, Alfred took his eyes off the stairs.

Gone were the haunting memories of Thomas and Martha Wayne being shot in front of the little boy's eyes. Gone was the raging need for avenging their deaths, for maintaining justice in Gotham City. Gone was the dark knight and everything he stood for all those years. Left was Bruce Wayne; a handsome billionaire in his early thirties without any reminiscence of his past.

“If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would not have believed it for a second.”  
Tony just narrowed ice-cold eyes at the elder man.  
“Well. If you still have the heart to tear him apart, then at least wait until after dinner.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

During dinner, which was a short-notice order from Pepper at one of their regular deli delivery services, the atmosphere at the table hovered between strained and forced. Bruce Wayne, of all people, was the only one not bothered by the situation and continued to keep the conversation going. “Of course it's still weird, this whole memory loss thing. But, Tony and Pepper are very patient.”  
  
The woman at the table all but choked on her food, and Tony reached over to give her a light pat on the back. When Bruce was assured she was fine, he once more focused on the elder man sitting across from him. “But, let's not talk about me all the time. How're things in Gorham going?” Stark politely leaned sideways and whispered something in his ear. Cringing, Wayne pulled a face.  
  
“Gotham – Gotham I mean! How're things in Gotham?”  
  
Alfred's countenance never lost its dignified expression even as his protege flushed red. “Very kind of you to ask, Master Wayne. I can assure you it is mostly business as usual.” Bruce nodded along, trying to appear understanding. “Good, that's good.” He then cleared his throat and began to poke the chicken on his plate.   
  
“Gotham.”

At Bruce's quiet, embarrassed whisper, Tony reached out and placed an arm over the backrest of his supposed fiancé's chair. His fingers began to massage Wayne's uptight shoulder and neck area. With glee, Stark then smirked at the butler and stretched out his legs underneath the table.

“By the way, Al, have you already decided on what to get us as a wedding present? I think Pepper's up to date with the wedding registry at... who holds our list again, dearest Miss Potts? Neiman Marcus? Bloomingdales? Sakes? I can never remember. See, Bruce my love, I'm just as bad.” It was Tony's luck that Pepper was unable to kick his shin from her position.

Once she realized he had only tried to make Bruce feel less awkward, her anger vanished as quick as it came. Still, it did not mean she wanted to let him off the hook for his outrageous ways. “We hold lists at all three, Tony. Otherwise, all those guests wouldn't have enough to choose from.” A nonverbal communication played out between blue and brown eyes. Pepper's eyebrow twitched.  
  
“Oh, but – how many people have we invited?”  
  
The young Gothamite looked up from his plate and glimpsed into the round. When Alfred choose to remain silent, Bruce threw Tony a sideways glance. The latter then cast his assistant a sinister look that seemed to say “Now you're in over your head, and just as bad” and smiled at his fiancé. “Well, you and me, we both know a lot of people. It's not like it's gonna bankrupt us, or anything.”

Dissatisfied with the evasive answer, Bruce set his jaw tight and furrowed his brows in suspicion.

“How many?”  
Tony refrained from rolling his eyes, put his fork down and made a vague gesture with his hand.  
“500 sounds about right, I guess.”  
  
That time, it was Alfred Pennyworth who choked on his seltzer. After he had dabbed his mouth and exhaled, the butler focused on his still stunned protege. “It is a good thing the festivities are not about to take place before next year, Sir, do not worry yet.” His determined attitude and the way he eyed Pepper and Tony left no room to argue. “Okay. That should be enough time to organize everything until then. Whew.”  
  
Bruce seemed a little rattled, but relieved.   
Three pairs of eyes met across the table.   
The whole charade had gained another member within the little circle of trust, whether the butler liked it or not.

After espresso-flavored ice cream for dessert, Alfred was about to take his leave and head back for the jet at a nearby Stark Industries' airfield. Standing outside the mansion where a cab was waiting, Pennyworth froze when Bruce stepped forward and engulfed him in a spontaneous hug. “It was really nice of you to come by, Alfred. I probably should be heading back home soon as well.”  
  
The butler grabbed his protege by the shoulders and inspected his face. Then he smiled, benevolent. “Stay as long as you want, Master Wayne. Rest assured Mister Fox knows how to take care of business, and for anything else...” Alfred first searched for Pepper's, then for Tony's gaze. Both wore expectant expressions. “... there is nothing of importance that should keep you from enjoying yourself a little longer.”  
  
From his place on the backseat, Alfred turned around to see Bruce and Tony holding hands.

 


	12. Chapter 12

A relaxed evening found the two men in the living room, where Tony had instructed Jarvis to lighten up the fireplace.

The genius inventor sat at the grand piano on his gallery and did what he had not done in the past few years. He never played in front of anybody, not even Rhodey or Pepper. Upon Bruce's rather bashful wish, however, Tony had found he just could not say no. The Gothamite lounged on the large couch and browsed through one of Tony's many books on advanced mechanics of materials and engineering.

Ever so often, his eyes went up and lingered on the man across from him, fascinated by the intense look on Tony's face. Most of the time, Stark kept his eyes closed, but during those rare times when he blinked and focused back on reality, they searched for Bruce and smiled at him with warmth and trust. The Gothamite felt comfortable enough to ask a question that had been on his mind for the longest time.

He cleared his throat, that way prompting Tony's attention.  
“Have we already... err... you know...”  
The music stopped for a moment. Bruce's cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.

“Have we...? Oh _. That._ Geez, what have you been reading there? Anyhow, let me put it this way...” The evil part in Tony Stark wanted to spin a raunchy tale as to the how and when he deflowered the younger man. The less evil part in him however, the one that really wanted to make an effort, won. “... I'd be lying if I said I didn't want us to, sure, but you wanted us to fully wait until marriage.”

Relief was plastered across Bruce's face. Nevertheless, Tony could not help but to go the extra mile.  
“But... you were never opposed to having a little fun without going the full nine yards, snookums.”  
Upon the naughty wink Stark threw him, Wayne was quick to stick his nose back into the pages.

After a little while, Tony then resumed his playing, and Bruce put the book aside for good. He slid deeper into the couch and leaned his head back against the soft leather. Fingers interlaced upon his chest, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to get immersed within the magical spell Tony had on the whole room. Soon enough however, Bruce opened them again to observe the scene in front.

In the dim light of the approaching dusk, the flickering flames from the fireplace cast soft shadows upon Stark's expressive countenance. With furtive glances, Bruce regarded Tony's half profile; the even nose, his neatly trimmed goatee lines, and the way his wavy hair curled atop his ear. Something then prompted Wayne to get up and draw nearer to the expensive black piano with its gloss varnish.

From his new-found vantage point, Bruce now was able to see how Tony's fingers moved along the ivories. The Californian billionaire glimpsed up at him, his play undeterred. When Stark shifted a little and made an inviting motion with his head, Wayne slid onto the piano bench next to him, still mesmerized by Tony's sleight of hand. Astounded, he noticed the empty place on the music rack.

“Where did you learn to play like that? You're not even using any sheets.”  
Tony gave a little casual shrug as his fingers ghosted over the keys with ease and an air of serenity.  
“My mom used to play for me when I was a child. I would sit on her lap when I was three.”

Bruce gave a brief, sad smile but did not look up.  
“I don't remember much about my parents. They probably didn't teach me how to play an instrument.”  
Tony's jaw worked, but he did not speak. Instead he switched from minor to major key.

“What makes you think they didn't?”  
The younger man shrugged ever so slightly.  
“I don't know. It's just a feeling. Maybe I'm wrong.”

Stark turned his head to look at him. There was a peculiar look in his eyes.  
“Now you've got me to play for you, as often and as long as you like. Okay?”  
The Gothamite nodded, not knowing what to reply.

They sat in silence and listened to Tony's effortless melodies, each one lost in his thoughts. Then Wayne stood up, straddled the bench and faced Tony's profile. The shorter man tensed and all but froze in awed shock when he felt Bruce's chin on his shoulder soon after; as well as a pair of strong arms around his midriff.

“It soothes me, the way you play. And it almost makes me feel like I'm at home.”  
Tony hummed his approval. It was a deep, full sound right from the bottom of his core.  
“That's good, honey bear, that's good.”

Wayne's soft breath was warm next to his ear. Tony had a hard time concentrating on his tune, even though he knew the melodies by heart. Bruce had interlocked his fingers around his waist, and Tony was almost afraid to move, as if it might scare the other man off again if he did.

“I want to sleep next to you tonight. Just to... see if it makes me remember anything.”  
Tony was sure Bruce would be able to feel his heartbeat increasing at the close distance.  
“You're very welcome to be my guest.”

* * *

If anyone might have told Tony Stark a couple of weeks earlier that he was going to feel as nervous as a teenager at the prospect of sharing his bed, he would have laughed in their faces. Now however, after a rather awkward shared bathroom session of brushing teeth and freshening up, Tony lay on his back and tried hard not to be too perturbed when the mattress next to him eventually dipped in.

For a moment, he remained perfectly still and let Bruce slip and adjust underneath the blankets. When the rustling stopped soon after, Tony dared to turn his head sideways. Jarvis had tinted the windows to twenty percent, allowing the faint moonlight to shine in and illuminate the ceiling.

“You good?”  
Tony felt a bit silly whispering, but then Bruce twisted on his side to face him.  
“Yeah. You've got a great view.”

Both of them then watched the endless ocean cast in darkness outside the mansion in silence. For all of his usual witticisms and wisecracks, Stark could not think of a proper thing to say. After he had racked his mind for the longest time, he was able to make out the even breathing of his nighttime guest.

“Sweet dreams, Bruce.”

When there was no response, Tony moved with as much care as possible until he was able to watch the Gothamite sleep. Bruce's face was relaxed and exuded a certain kind of youthfulness, which caused Tony to smile into the night. The younger man smelled of faint sandalwood soap and minty toothpaste, and so Tony unconsciously inched closer. Bruce's body was solid and radiated warmth.

In no time, Tony Stark, notorious for his own, troubled sleep patterns, was fast asleep as well. He should wake after a solid eight hours of deep slumber, spooned up against the prone form of Bruce Wayne, whose head was turned away from him. After blinking the still darkened room into focus, Tony realized his arm was slung around the other man's lower back, almost like a hug.

When he was about to remove it with care, it prompted Wayne to roll away from him onto his side. A gentle sigh, then a hand reached out to keep Stark's arm in place. Tony buried his face close to Bruce's neck and brushed his fingers against his abdominal muscles hidden under the shirt. Neither of them spoke a word, caught up in the morning haze. When Bruce got up to take a shower, Tony deliberately held his tongue.  
  
His rare self-restraint got rewarded with the fact that Bruce would go back for his sleeping quarters from that point on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love watching RDJ play the piano *dreamy sigh* That man is so freaking talented, I just can't.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From one talented man to the other: The ever-gifted Mister Bale and his performance in Swing Kids made the first part of this chapter easier to imagine and to write. Even though I don't claim to be able to tell the true differences between Lindy Hop, Swing and Jitterbug. I beg pardon to those who do.

Two days later, Tony went out to run some errands after breakfast.  
  
He had spent the past weeks at home for the most part, letting Pepper run business at SI, and only suiting up whenever there were severe cases of his weapons being misused in other parts of the world. Rhodey had nagged him about being more upfront regarding Iron Man's missions, and Tony had taken the opportunity to discuss things over with him at a local café near the Pacific Coast Highway.

“Hey platypus, what would'cha say if I told you I'm thinking about getting married?”  
When Rhodes was done laughing for five minutes straight, he wiped his eyes.  
“Heck yeah, I needed that, thanks man. Give Pepper my deepest sympathy.”

Incensed and demoralized at the same time, Tony waved him off, put up a fake grin, and threw a couple of bills on the table. Unaware of the true reasons for the sudden change in behavior, James wanted to come along to Stark Mansion for some updates on War Machine. Tony told his best friend he was unable to welcome him to his place right now, and both men left for their cars in underlying disappointment.

Once he had opened the front door, the blaring sounds of 'Footloose' echoed through the vastness of his mansion. High-pitched, female laughter mingled with the music, and Tony threw his keys aside to walk over to where he suspected the source of the bedlam to be. At the scene that played out in front of him, Stark stopped right where he stood. Stared. And stared some more.

Stared at Bruce, dressed in a simple white t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans, who was dancing in the open kitchen area with an equally barefooted Pepper. Her patterned flared skirt whirled around her slim legs as Bruce twirled her around with grace. Stared at the way the Gothamite laughed along with her in a so carefree, so bizarre, and at the same time so fascinating and utterly endearing way.

A small smile began to form on Tony's lips as he felt his mood lighten up again.

Just then, Bruce spotted him in the doorway, stopped dancing and steadied the woman by his side in mid-spin. Pepper tumbled against his broad chest with a little squeak at the sudden change of pace. Both returned Tony's perplexed stare before the redhead was quick to free herself out of Bruce's grip. The Gothamite blew her a kiss and bowed his head before he focused on his stunned fiancé.

“Hi, you're back early. Pepper's told me she did the Lindy hop as a teen. She's a fantastic dancer.“  
The freckled countenance of the assistant was flushed, from movement and shame at being caught.  
“Tony! I was just about to head for SI. There's... some paperwork for you on your desk upstairs.”

Quick to ask Jarvis to turn down the music, Pepper tried to brush some loose strands back into her ponytail. Tony Stark did not even attempt to hide his winsome smile. “Probably the registration form for Dancing with the Stars, huh? Never knew you had it in you, Potts. Grace and poise.” The redhead pretended to hear the phone ring inside her purse to escape her boss' mockery.

Bruce gave a careless brush to the bangs on his forehead and beamed at the shorter man. Tony could not help but to feel certain parts of him respond to the slight heave of that broad chest and the way Wayne's biceps stretched underneath the slim-fitted shirt. The Gothamite had started to work out at his spacious private gym recently, and Stark did not mind fasting his eyes on the results.

“I didn't know you could dance like that either.“  
That put a small damper on Bruce's mood, and he shoved a hand into the back pocket of his jeans.  
“Me neither. I... must have learned it at some point in my life.“

Unable to keep his hands to himself any longer, Tony sneaked both arms around Bruce's waist.  
“Always knew you could move. Oh, and for your information: I'm officially jealous of Miss Potts.”  
That time, it was Bruce who pinned him to the counter in between his arms and kissed him hard.

“No need to. But let's go out tonight, so I can make it up to you. I really wanna hit the town. Jarvis told me you used to do that daily. And we haven't been out since... you know. How bout that?” With a mental note to have a word or two with his ever-talkative AI later on, Tony waved him off. “Why no, it's a Thursday. Not much going on on the partying front before the actual weekend.”  
  
Tony's argument was weak like his resolve. He knew he should deflect the situation. Bruce was still flying under the radar when it came to his stay at Stark Mansion or his still present amnesia. “Oh, I don't believe that. And I've been told Tony Stark knows how to party every day of the week.”

The way Wayne continued to purr in his ear and had his way with Tony's mouth and neck, however, prompted the genius inventor to moan out his final consent. He was glad Pepper had already left for the office and could not rip his head off for the idiocy he was about to indulge in.

* * *

It was 10 pm when they sped down the PCH towards the Lure in Hollywood.  
  
Tony made himself drive on purpose; that way he would be less inclined to drink and risk to leave his precious R8 Spyder behind. Besides, it would make for a quick getaway, should Bruce attempt to get plastered. By the time they arrived, the line of people outside was long. Bruce cast Tony a pointed look to which the older man nodded him off with an air of self-assurance and gave a roar of the powerful sports car's engine.  
  
Someone from valet parking was at their side in an instant, and Bruce witnessed how Stark waltzed past the waiting crowd to greet the bouncer up front with an amicable fist bump. “Hell, Tony, haven't seen you around in ages! What are you up to, man? Who's your friend?” The big bulky man held the door open for them and cast the whining crowd in the back a stern look.  
  
“Not much, Vinny, 'cept I'm kinda busy these days being a superhero. This is Bruce, not from L.A.”

The doorman did not seem to mind or to notice the peculiar introduction and ushered them inside. The Gothamite, however, had noticed but forgot to ask his companion as soon as they stood amidst the luxurious venue and let Tony steer them right over to the designated VIP area. It did not take long for them to have an arrangement of different alcoholic beverages in front of them, but Tony made sure to stick to plain juice.  
  
He encouraged Bruce to try the vodka option at least; determined to grand his guest the unique opportunity to drink before his righteous teetotaler attitude broke through, at some point or another. In order to deflect from their isolated status in the spacious VIP lounge, Tony saw to the arrival of half a dozen beautiful young women. His strategy baffled Bruce, even if Wayne did not let his confusion show.  
  
After a while, during which the ladies took turns in dancing with either hot bachelor, Bruce eventually managed to corner his aversive fiancé. Tony meanwhile had shed his jacket and slouched in the large white lounge element with outstretched legs, drink in one hand, and one arm behind his head. Half of the ladies had gone to the private area restrooms, while the others were outside for a smoke.  
  
With eyes blazing from his third vodka tonic within a time span of two hours, Wayne plopped down next to Stark and licked his lips. “Hey sexy, I wanted to dance with you, not with the girls. C'mon now.” As he tugged on Tony's shirt the older man returned a slow, seductive smirk. “How bout we're saving that for when we get home? I'm gonna show you some real good moves.”

Bruce, dauntless from just the right amount of alcohol, placed a palm onto Tony's thigh.  
“How about a kiss then? You've been so distant tonight, that's very unlike you.”  
His hand wandered closer to the inseam of Tony's pants and closer to his crotch.

With an eye out for the return of their female entourage, Stark was quick to grab the wandering fingers in his.  
He gave a giggle and took another sip from his glass.  
“We don't wanna get people jealous here, cupcake, hands off the merchandise.”

A frown found its way in between the Gothamite's brows.  
“That's not what you said to Pamela earlier on. I did see her pawing you, alright?”  
Bruce then detached himself from Tony with a sour expression and slid a few inches away.

“And by the way: Why didn't you tell them about us? This Cindy keeps trying to get my number.“  
Tony felt they were treading on thin ice. He leaned sideways to give Bruce's cheek a brief stroke.  
“Cause what we have is something special, babe. I don't wanna ruin it by milking it to the public.”

For a while, Wayne was silent, and Tony watched him for any outward reaction. Then those hazel-green eyes grew a little softer, and Stark released a breath he did not know he had been holding. Avoiding the pitfalls, one by one. Bruce propped his head on his palm, elbow on the headrest.

“Tell me how we met. Got together. And who proposed. I bet it was you.”  
It was just Tony's luck Bruce saw the bout of insecurity flash across his face.  
“Uh, well, yeah... there was that time when... I guess I might have been...”

The younger billionaire looked disconcerted. He sat up straight with one swift motion.  
  
“What – you don't remember!? I'm supposed to be the one with the mental blackout here!”  
Tony scratched the back of his head and glimpsed around the dancing crowd to stall for time.  
“I do remember! But I'd rather tell you later on, in private. Too much going on here right now.”

He gave a cheerful wave over to where several of the young women appeared up the stairs. By the time Tony had escaped any further discussion and was dancing surrounded by two ladies, Bruce's mood was completely ruined. Their drive home half an hour later was quiet and subdued.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sexy stuff about to go down in this one (and heck yeah, pun intended)

“Bruce? Brucie? … hello, earth to Bruce?”  
Silence. A hardened jaw and two eyes that stared straight ahead into the bathroom mirror.  
“Oookay, you're clearly moping. Go on, mope some more, I'm done and off to bed.”

While Stark wished to just be able to turn off the lights and forget the whole evening, Wayne was downright livid. He soon came to stand in front of Tony with arms akimbo and stared down on him with ire. Stark sat on the edge of the mattress and rubbed at his tired eyes with two fingers.

“So I'm just 'Bruce, not from L.A.' around here? And earlier on you wouldn't even tell me the truth about our engagement? What is this, Tony – am I embarrassing you or something? Is that the reason you don't want people to know we're together? What kind of... of douchebaggery is this?”

If the situation was not that grave, Tony would have marveled in the light of Bruce Wayne using the word douchebaggery. He refrained from adding unnecessary fuel to the fire, however, and decided on taking the only way out to escape more drama before their argument took an unfortunate route. He reached out, yanked at Wayne's boxers with force and went down on Bruce for the first time.

His impromptu blowjob took the other man by complete surprise, and Bruce's hands tried to push him away at first. Soon enough, however, the pushing turned into clawing and tugging, and Tony sucked even harder upon hearing the other man hiss out his name between clenched teeth.

All too soon, Bruce came with a shudder and a groan, his head tilted back and his fingers curled in Tony's hair. Once he was able to focus again, he regarded the smug man sitting in front. Without warning, Wayne pushed him backwards onto the mattress and attacked his capable mouth. Tasting himself on Stark's lips, Bruce could feel Tony's arousal pressing into his hip.

He moved to be able to pin the shorter man's hands above the head within one palm, while his free hand went inside the loose pajama pants. Tony jerked at the first contact of Bruce's fingers around his cock and began to thrash in his grip. Part of him felt frightened at the other man's strength, part of him was turned on beyond belief. The stroking then haltered, and he all but squirmed again.

“Stop moving, or I'll stop and leave.”  
Bruce's voice was deep and gravely, and reminded Tony a lot of his alter ego. In an instant, he stilled.  
“Damn you're hot when you're all dark and commanding.”

Not gracing him with an answer, Wayne drew out his wait until Stark was close to whimpering.  
“I think you need to be taught a little lesson in telling the truth, Tony.”  
Despite his utter arousal, and the limited ability to use his genius mind, the latter started to panic.

“So tell me: Who am I?”  
A thumb ran along the most sensitive spot on his shaft, causing Tony to flutter his eyes shut.  
“... B-Bruce... Wayne.”

A gentle squeeze to his balls.  
“Good. And who is Bruce Wayne?”  
Unable to follow the Gothamite's train of thought, Stark tried to stall and blinked upwards.  
  
“T... the man who's got me by the balls right now?”  
Bruce's face swam into his blurred vision as he continued to pleasure Tony with long, firm strokes.  
“I. Am. Your. Fiancé. Say it.”

Surprised at the intensity in those stormy eyes, Stark could feel his orgasm building fast.  
“You're... you're my fiancé.”  
Wayne's hand moved faster. He then dipped his head low and ran his tongue around Tony's earlobe.

“And it's your fiancé who is going to make you come real hard right now.”  
  
Paired with the wet and warm sensation around and inside of his ear, Tony did as he was told. He jerked into Bruce's hand with a long, drawn out moan and his eyes clenched shut. Tony did not even notice when the other man released him, until there was a gentle hand cupping his cheek. “I think you're on the right track now, Stark. There's hope for you yet.”

* * *

As they basked in the afterglow of their respective post-coital haze, Bruce began to draw lazy circles around Tony's ARC.  
The latter's fingers played with a few strands of Wayne's hair.  
“Am I forgiven for my douchebaggery?”

The Gothamite allowed a little grin to appear on his lips.  
“For the moment. I still think you're an idiot. Oh, and that we should do it soon.”  
Stark peeped one eye open to regard Wayne's relaxed countenance.

“Babe, I might be Iron Man, but gimme some more time to reload there.”  
Bruce gave a little shake of the head and raised his eyebrows in a challenging way.  
“Not that. Even though... that, too – but what I meant was the wedding. Let's have it next month.”  
  
That got Tony's complete attention, all of his mind blowing orgasm aside.  
“Uh, I... wow, talk about soaring high serotonin levels, eh? Or are you just hungry for all of my bod after this?”  
His attempt at deflecting the situation caused Bruce to give a deep chuckle.  
  
“No, I'm serious. Why wait any longer? We wanted it beforehand, we want it now. I don't see what's the problem. Nobody would tell a difference.”

The shorter man opened his mouth several times before he tried for some lame reasoning.  
“I don't think our guests would be amused at a such short notice change of plans, love.”  
Bruce pondered his objection for a split second. Then he raised his head to meet Tony's gaze.

“So leave the big party where it is. I'm just talking about you and me. Let's... elope.”  
Tony bobbed his head in a mixture of admiration and bewilderment.  
“Oho. And here I was, recalling you being the sensible one of us. Or should I say – adamant?”

Dejected, Bruce lowered his head again. His breath was warm on Tony's shoulder.  “You know, I'm starting to hate the way I was. Maybe it'd be for the best if I never get my memories back, and everything stays the way it is now. From all you've told me, I apparently was an awful and opinionated, hard-assed jerk. How you even managed to put up with that makes me wonder.”

That much self-criticism even rendered Tony speechless for a moment. When he smirked, it was not without a certain sadness. “Yeah, well, while I give you that, you make it sound far worse than it was. Okay, you might have been an awful and opinionated, hard-assed jerk, but... you were _my_ awful and opinionated, hard-assed jerk. Better now?”

His palm ran over the crown of Bruce's head. Wayne clenched his hand over his ARC reactor.  
“I really want us to get married soon. It doesn't matter what was before. The past doesn't matter.”  
Tony continued his ministrations for a while without saying a word. Eventually, he spoke.

“Okay, I'll try to see what I can do.”  
  
Bruce smiled against the crook of his arm before he eventually drifted off to sleep. Stark then slid down until he laid next to him, and pressed a kiss upon his temple. For a few heartbeats, he could not help but to stare at the small, almost invisible scar there. His voice was almost inaudible, even to his own ears.  
  
“But still... it does matter, darling. It does matter. Even though I really wish it didn't.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

People creating their own demons was the term Tony figured should be put right around the Stark family crest. Even though he had reached the point he had always sought for; getting Bruce Wayne to fall in love with him – wanting to be joined in matrimony even – he was not able to cherish it. Where Tony's self-doubts began to plague his mind day and night, Bruce was living the dream for both of them.

They were too far in to call it quits by now, and Tony wondered if Alfred Pennyworth might sue him after all, once he would see the ring on Bruce's finger in less than a month. Pepper had tried to reason with him at first; though more of the rhetoric kind when she discovered where the sudden initiative had come from. Trying for a rational approach, the PA began to do some research on the legal steps of having a marriage annulled without too much uproar.

“We could go for forced consent, maybe.”  
The two of them were down in Tony's workshop, with Pepper browsing through her notes.  
Tony threw her an annoyed glance and drummed his fingers on the workbench.

“I'm sorry, but have you looked at the guy lately? He's radiant, for fuck's sake.”  
The redhead exhaled and crossed something off on her clipboard.  
After a brief glimpse on the display of her StarkPhone, she slipped the device into the pocket of her jacket.  
  
“Then choose between fraud, mental illness or, what I'd prefer, mental incapacity. Though we'd still have to go and get a medical evaluation to prove Bruce's amnesia in those two scenarios and...” She paused, but her boss knew what she was hinting at. It would expose Bruce Wayne's case to the public, and ultimately cause more harm to his reputation than being in a secretive, gay marriage.  
  
Tony groaned in frustration and lowered his head upon the flat, hard surface of his desk.  
“Just shoot me, Pep.”  
A delicate hand found its way to his left shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.  
  
“That'd be too easy.”

Despite his gloom, Tony had to smirk. He nodded when she asked him about sandwiches for lunch, and watched her leave the basement. Once he had straightened his back, rolled his shoulders and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger, Tony squinted upwards.

“Jarvis?”  
His fingers began to fiddle with some electronics right in front of him.  
“Yes, Sir?”

“Is there a chance Bruce will never regain his memory?”  
Instead of answering right away, the AI pulled up a holographic in front of his face.  
“Studies show that 45 % of traumatic brain injury cases experience amnesia for longer than a month.”

Tony's eyes skipped over the graphics.  
“Yes, but what about afterward? Is he gonna blow a gasket on me during our honeymoon, or...”  
Jarvis began to pull up more information from the net.

“Memories from just before the trauma are often completely lost. This is partly due to the psychological repression of unpleasant memories, which is referred to as psychogenic amnesia, and because memories may be incompletely encoded if the event interrupted the normal process of transfer from short-term to long-term memory.”  
  
Even if their lives together would be built upon a less than stellar lie, Tony regained some hope.  
It could still work out. They could still work out.  
The only thing he had to do until then was to get over the massive guilt trip inside his head.

"However, Sir, while post-traumatic amnesia lasts, new events cannot be stored in the memory.”  
Tony's head shot up. There it was. The other downside of the construct of lies he had created.  
“You mean... everything he's experiencing now is lost, once he does remember the past?”

“That is about to be expected, Sir, yes. Maybe some memories remain, though it is hard to say.”  
As soon as the AI fell silent, Tony clenched his right hand so tight that his fingers started to hurt.  
“God fucking dammit!“  
  
He ordered Jarvis to turn up the audio and no two seconds later, Deep Purple reverberated from the walls, making the whole room shake.

After two songs at maximum volume, Tony's initial ire had cooled off enough to listen to the rest of the playlist at a more moderate sound level. A screwdriver on his workbench still received his underlying anger, as Tony brushed it down with force. It clattered to the concrete floor with a metallic sound and rolled away until it came to rest in front of a pair of sneakers. Its wearer bent down to pick the tool up and put it aside.

“Tony...?”  
Bruce's soft voice woke him from his thoughts.  
“... are you okay?”

His quick smile did not fool Wayne a second.  
“Yeah, cupcake, course. I'm fine.”  
Two strong arms encircled him soon after.

With a heavy heart, Tony returned the hug and tried not to think about the time when only he himself would hold the memories of their tender times dear. The younger billionaire tilted his head to search for his lover's gaze. “No. Something's troubling you. What is it? Have I done something wrong? I mean, there's nothing that I can remember, but... you know how that works out for me, lately.”

Bruce tried to make his voice sound upbeat and attempted to take away the sadness which dominated Tony's body language with a kiss. Once their lips parted, the shorter man held his lover's face in between his hands, thumbs stroking along Bruce's cheekbones with both affection and misery.

“Maybe we should wait some more with the wedding. Until you've fully regained your memory.”  
A frown appeared on Bruce's face. His eyes narrowed; a hint of panic in them all of a sudden.  
“So I have done something wrong. I need you to tell me, Tony, please. Am I...”

Stark felt even more miserable at the visible distress on Wayne's countenance.  
“God, no – honey bear, no! If anything, it's me.”  
At that, Bruce began to shake his head with determination.  
  
“That's bull, and you know it! I thought we love each other... but apparently, that isn't enough.”  
Angry, the Gothamite tore away from Tony's grip and marched over to the door.  
“Bruce! Babe, wait! Please. I can explain, I...”

A new song started to play, but Tony paid it no mind.  
Bruce, on the other hand, perked up, slowed down and stopped walking.  
With a frown, he turned his head upwards and listened closely.

_'Can you remember, remember my name, as I flow through your life..._

Confused by the sudden change in behavior, Tony licked his lips and eyed his lover.  
A deep frown had set between the Gothamite's brows as he began to glance around himself.

_'... and cold, cold spirits of ice, all my life, I am the echo of your past.'_

“I... remember... Mark 42. The cognitive control suit. You wanted to...”  
The thick, icy baritone was different from Wayne's previous way of speaking. Tony stared at him.  
“... we were working on my EMP gun, and your... armor went berserk.”

_'I am returning the echo of a point in time, distant faces shine. A thousand warriors I have known...'_

Concerned, Tony started into Bruce's direction with an outstretched hand.  
“Well, you're not wrong, but what made you...”  
Then something in Tony also clicked. 'Perfect Strangers' had been playing right before the accident.

_'And if you hear me talking on the wind, you've got to understand – we must remain... perfect strangers.'  
_

Without warning, Bruce dropped to his knees. One hand steadied him on the floor while he held his forehead with the other. Alarmed, Stark knelt down next to him and made a move to reach out for his shoulder. At that, Wayne lashed out and slapped his arm away. His eyes were squeezed shut. “It's all a lie. You. Me.” The Gothamite's breath came in short gasps. Stark hissed at his AI to stop the music.  
  
“It's not a lie, Bruce. You're my friend, more than my friend even, and we have felt so much...”  
_'… the voice of ages in your mind is aching with the dead of the night.'_  
Tony watched how Bruce massaged his temples with those long, elegant fingers.  
  
Fingers he had gotten to know so well; knew what they were capable of, all over his body.  
Fingers that should have worn the engraved ring he kept upstairs in less than four weeks.  
Right now, those fingers formed a tight fist.  
  
“You dirty, goddamn liar! ”  
  
The massive blow that followed sent Tony reeling backward. For a moment, Stark just laid there and tried to get his equilibrium back under control. As he listened to the sound of his own, heavy breathing, Tony kept his eyes fixated on the gray ceiling of his workshop. He did not have enough energy to raise his head and watch Bruce get to his feet and storm off.

 _'... your tears are lost in falling rain...'_  
The glass doors rattled after the Gothamite had slammed them shut behind him.  
_'... you've got to understand – we must remain... perfect strangers.'_  
  
Wayne left the mansion in his Lamborghini that took him to the nearest, private airstrip where he had instructed Alfred to have a jet waiting.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. This is why we can't have nice things. At this point, I bid farewell to hilarity, but I guess I've had it coming.
> 
> Oh, and of course, lyrics belong to Deep Purple and whoever wrote 'Perfect Strangers'. No copyright infringement intended.


	16. Chapter 16

Four weeks.  
Four weeks during which he had been playing mind games at Tony Stark's place.  
Four weeks during which Gotham had been neglected by the Batman's silent vigil.

Bruce Wayne was furious beyond belief. Furious at being deceived, furious at the betrayal by those around him. Furious for being tricked into believing something so utterly abstruse like being in love with another man; a man none other than the notorious Tony Stark, of all people.

For the upcoming two weeks, he went on patrols from dusk till dawn; taking out his anger and rage to the streets. He came home bloodied, bruised, and worn out to the bone, and yet the next night he got out and did it all again. Because there was no other option, nothing else that mattered to him. While he allowed Alfred to patch him up afterwards, Bruce still avoided conversation for the most part.  
  
He also ignored the hundreds of apology cards, gifts, and flowers Stark doused his Manor with, as well as the many phone calls, emails, and countless messages from Pepper Potts. No, Bruce did not want any of their apologies or explanations. At some point, the constant harassment from California seemed to stop almost overnight, and Wayne was finally able to move on.  
  
He expanded his arsenal, his cave and his armory even further, made some kind of friend with Jim Gordon from the GCPD, and tried to rekindle the flame and the memories with his old childhood sweetheart Rachel. Wayne Enterprises flourished after he put Lucius Fox into pole position, and everything seemed to be getting back to 'Status Quo Ante Stark'.

Three months after his ill-fated departure from Malibu, Bruce returned home one late afternoon to find an unfamiliar dark Jaguar roadster parked up right in front of the manor's main entrance. Before he was able to make his way up into his private quarters undeterred, Alfred appeared from the salon on the ground floor and haltered his steps.

“Master Wayne, she came all the way from Los Angeles. I kindly advise you to at least say hello.”  
Bruce glimpsed past his butler and made out the back of a fair-haired head. His lips disappeared as he pinched them tight.  
“There is nothing more to say, Alfred. I thought I made that abundantly clear.”

Pennyworth held his glare, not intimidated by his protege's deep frown and growl. “This is not about wounded pride anymore, from what I have understood, Sir. I suggest you get in and talk. Listen. Do not make the biggest mistake by turning your back on the last chance you get.”

Uncertain as to what his butler meant, Bruce cast another glance over to where the woman stood facing the large windows. With a final, disdained look at his mobile, the Gothamite strode into the salon with long steps. Pepper Potts swung around upon hearing his energetic entry. Bruce took in her simple, yet elegant black costume with matching high heels, and the way her hair was neatly done up in a chignon.

The smile she gave him was cautious and hesitant, and he forced himself to muster up something akin to it.

“Pepper. Can't say I'm not surprised. What can I do for you?”  
The tall woman allowed him to lead her over to the nearby sofa and scooted on its edge.  
“Bruce, first of I apologize for coming here unannounced. I... couldn't get a hold of you otherwise.”

She fell silent and brushed at an imaginary, loose strand of hair on her forehead. The billionaire remained standing across from her, hands in his pockets, and mustered her dejected form without any emotion. “How about we keep this short and professional, just like we both prefer to handle things.” At his harsh voice, Pepper looked up and Bruce could not help but to notice her faltering composure.

With a deep intake of breath, the young woman managed to nod. When she cleared her throat multiple times, the gentleman inside of Bruce Wayne got her a glass of water from the bar. Once the assistant had taken some grateful sips, she put the glass back on the coffee table in front. “Let me start by saying this visit was my own idea. Tony doesn't even know I'm here.”  
  
At the mention of Stark's name, Bruce involuntarily clenched his jaw.   
“If this is yet another try in telling me to forgive and forget what he's done, then I'm sorry. I can't.”   
With arms crossed in front of his chest, Wayne walked away to resume her previous spot by the window.

Outside it was already getting dark, and he felt a familiar surge rise in him.   
  
“No, I couldn't ask that from you, Bruce, you're right. However, I need to let you know something, because it's the only option that remains before it's going to be too late.” Upon the slight quiver in her voice, Bruce tilted his head to where she sat. “Too late for what?” A gentle, almost inaudible sniff. A shuddering exhale. Then Pepper spoke, devastated.   
  
“He's dying, Bruce. The Palladium inside his chest is killing him, slow but steady. And I...” She stopped as an almost sob escaped her lips, and pressed her knuckles against her mouth. “... I don't know what to do, how to help him. Nobody does. Nobody knows!”   
  
For a moment, Bruce heard her voice as if spoken through cotton wool. When he blinked himself back to reality after a few seconds, he turned around and saw the redhead holding a finger underneath her eyes to prevent the tears from running.

“How long?”  
In slow, steady motions he walked back over to where she sat and slid next to her on the couch.  
“What – how long he has known? From what I can tell, at least a month, maybe more.”

Bruce took the pocket square from his jacket and handed it to her as a makeshift handkerchief.  
“No, I mean... how long...”  
With shaking hands, Pepper dabbed at her bottom lash line.

“How long he's got to live? From what Jarvis estimates, another three months; six if he's lucky.”  
Hesitant and slow, Bruce reached out and put his hand on her shoulder.  
“I'm sorry, Pepper. I mean it. If there is anything I can do for you, then...”

She interrupted him by grasping for his hand and holding it tight inside her own, ice-cold palms. “Go to him, Bruce. Go and see him. Even if you cannot forgive him in this life, at least give him the chance to unburden himself of the guilt. Lie to him if you must, Bruce, but please, it's all I ask!” Uncomfortable with the emotional situation at hand, the Gothamite blinked a couple of times and stayed silent.

He would watch Pepper Potts' slim silhouette get in her car half an hour later, after she felt stable enough to drive back to the airfield. Bruce Wayne leaned in the large doorway of the Manor and watched on, until the tail lights of the sports car had disappeared from view.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Tony always thought he would go out with a mighty bang, not a puny whimper. Understandable, considering he was the great Iron Man.

Even more ironic was how the device which kept him alive, made him a superhero, would ultimately fizzle him out in the end. Karma was a bitch. Which day was still debatable though, and Tony would not have been Tony if he had not double- and triple checked all of his current data, his options, his resources. None of them provided suitable solutions to the problem at hand.

Mortality became far too real all of a sudden, and with a vengeance.

Pepper was the only one he had let in on the big picture; as ugly a picture as it was. She had taken it like a real trooper, Tony recalled, not without a touch of pride. Of course, he also suspected Jarvis withheld any footage from him where she was bawling her eyes out in her guest bathroom upstairs in his mansion. Suppressing a small shiver, Tony pulled the second hoodie jacket tighter around his frame.

Despite the summery temperatures outside, he had started to feel cold most of the time; up to the point where he considered to install another sauna down in his workshop to hop in every hour. Hopelessness aside, the inventor still made Jarvis carry on researching. He knew he needed to focus on other things that concerned his imminent demise, seeing that a cure was not in sight.

Legal things mostly, like settling the succession of Stark Industries and all of his worldly possessions. Genius billionaire playboy philanthropist Tony Stark never so much could have cared less about material things as in present times. He had long since decided to make Pepper CEO and have her take care of things exactly the way she wanted them to. There was no one better for the job, and the thought relived him.

Tired, the billionaire let his eyes wander along the 3D graphics in mid-air, over the cars in the back of his garage, and the mug of tea plus the little bowl of soup Pepper had brought him earlier on. Both were cold after Tony, with his continuously diminishing appetite, had forgotten about them. With elbows propped up on his workbench, he buried his head in his hands.

As he ran cold fingers through his hair, Tony was morbid enough to wonder if they might even start to fall out soon. Jarvis had not listed hair loss as one of the many symptoms he was about to go through, but maybe the AI was just trying to spare him more drama, knowing its creator loved his hair too much.  
  
What Tony had felt for several weeks were his sore throat, painfully swollen lymph nodes in the neck, and a weird combo of extreme nervousness and extreme tiredness. If he did not know better, he would have assumed to simply suffer from the flu. The cold feeling in his mouth and its perpetual metal taste, however, begged to differ.

“There is someone at the front door of the mansion, Sir.”  
Tony let his arms sink and automatically looked over to the empty space in front of his workshop.  
“Where's Pepper? Have her open up. Who's it anyhow?”

Instead of answering, Jarvis opened a new holographic window right in front of him. Tony stared at it, dumbfounded for a split second, before he rubbed his eyes. When he looked at the live feed again, the picture was still unchanged. With slow movements, Tony pushed himself to his feet. He kept his gaze locked firmly on the graphic, almost as if he feared it would vanish, once he did so much as blink.

“Tell Miss Potts to hold her fire. I'll go myself.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

No two minutes later, Bruce Wayne stood in the living room; clean-shaven and sporting a crisp, short haircut. He was dressed in a sleek but casual combo of dark denim, gray fitted button up v-neck shirt and black leather jacket, and his astute eyes sized the shorter man up with skepticism.

The optical change in Tony Stark was not that prominent at first sight, considering the fact he still kept his body in the best shape he could, still worked out, still went up in his Iron armor whenever necessary. Upon a closer, second glance, however, Bruce saw the weight loss and the darkish circles under his eyes.

“Well. Either it's all over town faster than I thought, or someone sold me out.”  
Bruce twirled the keys to his Lamborghini between his fingers and half-shrugged.  
“If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be here.”

A humorless laugh escaped Tony's lips. He made a careless swipe towards the couch. “Have a seat. That is if you're not just here to cash in a favor. But even if you are, at least let me say thanks for stopping by; as you can see I'm still alive. Oh, and that you have a nice day and a safe way home.” Much to his surprise, Wayne actually pocketed his car keys and took the proffered seat.  
  
Tony left for the open kitchen area to return with an amber colored liquid for his guest, and a greenish, thick concoction for himself. Bruce eyed both beverages, then Tony pointed his chin at the tall glass. “Ginger Ale. The whole bottom drawer of the fridge is still full of it. Might wanna take some with you when you leave. All yours anyhow.” He gulped his own drink, pulled a face at its aftertaste, and slid the shaker on the table.  
  
Bruce also took a sip before he leaned forward, elbows on thighs.  
“Detox smoothies help with Palladium poisoning?”  
With an exasperated groan, Tony leaned back against the cushions.  
  
“Chlorophyll – and no, they don't. I just prefer their taste to vodka these days, eh.”

The Gothamite eyed the bitter man sitting across from him. There were dark lines zigzag running along Tony's neck, coming from a spot underneath his hoodies and shirts. Bruce knew, without doubt, ·they stemmed from the reactor in his chest. He looked up into Tony's face again. “What data have you received? I know that some substitutes for Palladium exist.”  
  
Stark snorted and wrapped his arms around his torso.  
“Golly gee, listen to you. None of them are a suitable replacement for the reactor, Doctor Wayne.”  
At that, Bruce shook his head with a disdainful snort, stood up and brushed down his jeans.  
  
“Okay Tony, maybe this was a stupid idea. I didn't come here for your lip off.” The other billionaire sprang to his feet with unforeseen agility and speed. “Well, what did you come here for then, Bruce? For making tabula rasa? Allowing me to crawl on my knees and beg you for forgiveness in person? Listen, fella, I already tried to do that, multiple times, and you didn't want any of it. What else do you want me to do, huh? What?!”

A wave of dizziness washed over Tony, and he sunk back down on the couch, breathing hard.  
Wayne stared down to where he sat, emotions warring behind his unmoving facade. Then Stark blinked up at him.  
“Because - fuck, yes, I still am begging your forgiveness, Bruce, I... didn't want it to end like that.”

He palmed his forehead and shielded his eyes. Bruce regarded him, jaw set tight.  
“I want you to focus on the present situation. Here and now. There's a lot of work ahead.”  
Tony raised his head. Between heavy insecurity, there was another emotion lingering on his face.

Hope.

* * *

Even though Bruce had to leave the same day, he came back to Malibu on his own accord two days later. He brought a flash drive along, and Stark was touched by the efforts Wayne had made, trying to collect as much data as possible on eventual delays of the Palladium's effects and Tony's health. During the next weeks, they would continue to experiment, only to achieve the same, devastating results at the end of each day.

Even though Tony relished having Bruce around after the long, dreadful silence between them, he eventually grew weary.  
  
Weary of the disappointment on Bruce's face when yet another combination failed.  
Weary of the hopelessness inside of him.  
Weary of his impending death.

“Leave it be, Bruce. I know you mean well, but I have already tried it all, and more.”  
Wayne, more than well-educated, but still no specialist in biochemistry, closed his notebook with vehemence.  
“You're not giving up yet.”

A small smile hushed over Stark's lips.  
“It's all good, I mean, you're here, talking to me. Been a huge point to cross off my bucket list.”  
Before Wayne got really angry at him and his devil-may-care attitude, Tony tilted his head.

“Humor a dying man, Bruce. I just don't want to spend the rest of my meager days moping.”  
Bruce pressed his lips together tightly as if to avoid any possible objections slipping out.  
“Then there's nothing more I can do.”  
  
At the dismay in the Gothamite's voice, Tony shook his head.  
“Wrong. There is. You can. Just be there, as... a friend. Please?”  
Tony repeated the last part again, with his hand on Bruce's arm. Wayne held his gaze for a second.

“Okay.”

 


	19. Chapter 19

Some days were easier than others.  
On those, Tony was able to forget about his terminal illness for a couple of hours.  
He made sure to spend them well; preferably with Bruce by his side.

They would take either one of Tony's or Bruce's roadsters and go for a cruise all along the Pacific Coast. During most of those rides, they did not speak more than two or three sentences in total, but the silence between them was a comfortable one. It also gave Tony the chance to show Bruce all of Malibu's beautiful places –beaches, sunsets, amazing ocean waves- and allowed him to memorize them by heart as well.

Other times, the two of them would just sit at Tony Stark's place and talk. It was then that Bruce Wayne came to realize his Californian counterpart was far more complex and profound than he had given him credit for all those previous years. With a candor not known to others, they spoke about their individual past time losses, struggles, and present time challenges that came from being burdened with a second identity.

Despite his condition and the darker topics they bonded upon, Tony was hellbent on trying to make Bruce laugh as often as he could. It boosted his own happiness to hear the clear and foreign sound whenever he succeeded. Contrary to popular belief, Wayne was not as humorously challenged as Tony had always assumed. His dry sarcasm proved to be a welcomed addition to Tony's morbid sense of witticism.

However, Bruce never stayed overnight.  
The Batman, Gotham, and everything that came with it.  
Tony understood.

Some days were exceptionally bad.

He hated when Bruce was around to witness his decreasing strength with his own eyes. One moment, Tony was sitting at the piano and tried to give something back to his guest by playing his favorite song, and in another, he found himself on the floor next to the piano bench, drenched in cold sweat and quivering uncontrollably. The blackouts came out of nowhere and caused great distress to all parties involved.

Worst of all was not the pain inside his lungs, Tony decided, but the horror on Bruce's face when he blinked him back into focus after a few seconds of unconsciousness. “Doing great there with the final rehearsal, Wayne. Dying in your arms – best way out.” Both knew it was his way of trying to cover up his embarrassment, whenever Bruce scooped him up and helped him over onto the couch until Tony's condition had stabilized.

* * *

It was a warm sunny evening, late August.

They were sitting outside on the patio of Stark Mansion; Wayne in a light shirt and Stark buried deep underneath a blanket upon his recliner. He was constantly cold these days, no matter the temperatures. Pepper had long since left for her home, but not without hugging both of them goodbye. Tony did not have the heart to tease her for the sentimentality that came with it; after all, not even he knew whether or not he would live to see the next day. He had been cheating death for over a month now.

He eyed the long-limbed form of the Gothamite next to him. Once Bruce had noticed his shivering, he had gotten up to squeeze himself next to Tony to give off some of his own body heat. Stark did not mind freezing if it meant he got a good portion of the unique scent that was Bruce's fragrance, and the feel of his broad arm around his shoulders. He eyed the quiet ocean in front.

“I want you to have the suits. Although you're taller than me, so they won't fit. Yet. I'll figure it out.”  
Bruce grunted. “Stop talking as if you're already dead and gone.”  
Tony coughed into the blanket before he continued in the same solemn, yet rough voice, undeterred.

“Maybe I'll make it a split between Rhodey and you. Platypus is just not good at saying no when the DoD comes to make grabby hands. So he'll get just one suit that only works if it's actually him inside. But, as for the rest, I want you to give them a home. An... iron orphanage if you will.”

“Damn it, Tony, stop drawing up your will here, for heaven's sake!”  
The genius inventor laid his head back and felt Bruce's biceps move against his nape.  
“If we had been married, all of what's mine would've belonged to you now anyway.”

Bruce tensed next to him but did not remove his arm, or himself, out of Tony's proximity.  
“Like I would care about your stuff.”  
The Californian billionaire made a few gentle clicks with his tongue.

“Maybe you would've even stayed, knowing I'd soon leave you a widower behind. Less trouble.”  
Bruce's face was now inches from his, but Tony could still see the frown upon it. His own smile faltered.  
“Shut up, Tony. Just shut up, okay?”

And then, Bruce Wayne pressed his lips to his, almost feather-like. Tony closed his eyes. Tears threatened him from behind his eyelids, but he focused on the warm sensation that was Bruce's mouth. When the kiss ended, Stark waited for a couple of heartbeats until he reopened his eyes.

“You don't have to do this, Bruce.”  
With care, Wayne dipped his forehead against Tony's.  
“I know. But what if I want to? Humor a foolish man, Stark. Been a while.”

Tony chuckled into the approaching dusk. It came out raspy from his inflamed throat.  
“Count on you to have lousy timing, Wayne. My libido is nearly non-existent by now.”  
Bruce ever so slightly shook his head against Tony's.

“One more word and I'm not staying tonight.”  
  
Wordless, Stark drew back to be able to study Wayne's serious features. When he was sure he was not being fooled, Tony summoned up all of his remaining energy to get up on his own accord. On shaking legs, he then extended his hand out to where Bruce still sat. Fingers interlaced, they made their way upstairs into the master bedroom.

Like on the first night when Bruce Wayne had shared his bed, Tony Stark stayed as rigid as he could, until two warm hands drew him near. It should become a night during which the Gothamite stayed awake and listened to the wheezing, irregular breaths of the man in his arms. Afraid to fall asleep and wake up to a cold body the next morning, Bruce made use of the bright blue light that illuminated Tony's gaunt features to study him.

An abstract feeling upon holding the other man close settled inside his mind; tatters of a short-lived memory.  
After a long, internal debate, Wayne placed a careful kiss upon Stark's forehead.  
His palm continued to rest against the tepid glass case of the ARC; its quiet hum steady against his skin.

Despite the pain and the ever-present queasiness inside of him, Tony had not felt as safe, secure and warm in a long time.  
Far within his interwoven dreams, he heard a distant voice wafting over to him; soothing somethings like words of affection.  
Forgiveness. Care. Love.

Tony wished for those kind of dreams to tide him over to wherever he was about to end up at soon.

 


	20. Chapter 20

Bruce was not there anymore when Agent Phil Coulson arrived at the mansion the next morning. Was not there when the Agent administered a shot of Lithium Dioxide to Tony's neck, dropped off a huge steel case at his place, and told him to get to work. Was not there when Tony, all fired up from the chemical cocktail inside his veins, began to demolish his mansion in order to fit a giant particle accelerator into his workshop.

If Bruce had been there, he would have been nothing short of impressed of the way Tony –with the help from a couple of old chipboard panels of his father’s Expo replica model– was able to create a new element from scratch. Maybe it was a good thing Bruce had not been there, as he would have been appalled by the conditions Tony worked under to build up the cyclotron.

Suffice to say, things worked out in the end.

Tony got his new element, briefly pondered on whether to name it either Kickassium or Badassium and got hit by a distinct wave of metal and coconut that knocked him over for the upcoming ten minutes, once he had replaced the Palladium reactor. Afterward, he scrambled to his feet, examined the new bright blue triangle inside his chest, and watched how the dark blue veins under his skin turned a dark shade of red.

“The after-effects of the Palladium will last a couple of weeks until the body is fully able to recover from no constant exposure. Congratulations on creating a new element, Sir. Shall I deactivate code red?”

Jarvis' voice followed him upstairs into the shower, where Tony washed away all the sweat, grime and dust from his past few hours of hard labor. He realized that any connections to the outer world were still cut off after his science slam-dunk, so he was quick to affirm. Tony then slipped into a set of clean clothes, cast the ever-changing crossword puzzle under his skin a final glance, and sauntered downstairs.

Considering it was a late Monday afternoon, the list of callbacks from Pepper was still within moderate limits at 27. Tony thanked his AI for preventing the assistant to barge in on his experimental state; at least Jarvis had made sure Pepper knew he was not lying dead in a corner somewhere. The billionaire called her while he waited for the espresso maker to finish brewing.

It was the first time in weeks that he had felt the need for indulging in caffeine.

“Yes, I'm fine. No, stay at the office – it's a bit... I need to clean up round here first. Well yeah, true, I usually don't. Okay. Hm, maybe you can look up that construction company that repaired that hole in the ceiling last year. I... no. Nuh-uh. Yes. Yes, I'm fine! Yeah. Talk to you later, kay? Bye!”

Bruce, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter.

He stayed quiet as Tony babbled off incoherent stuff about being a genius, being cured, having a new reactor inside of him and a kick-ass particle accelerator down in his basement, and if Bruce did not mind to come over and check it out - and, oh, check on him as well, as the success and everything had made him quite in the mood for some release of the sexual kind? It was, after all, a fantastic time to be alive.

Wayne simply hung up on him, but not after growling out a very, very rude expression.

Indignant, Tony shrugged his shoulders at the busy signal, before he trudged down into his workshop again. He wanted to try and clear off the mess around the cyclotron best way he could before the first workers of the construction company would roll in; some things were just not meant for the public. Around 9 pm, he had shoveled near all debris into neat piles and had heaved the cut-up cupboards and furniture aside.  
  
His previously clean wife-beater was once again stained with sweat and grime, but Tony felt as alive and vibrant as he had not felt in a long time. Even more so when he saw a familiar figure skip down the stairs to his workshop. Stark wiped his forehead with his arm and watched how Wayne punched in his own access code and yanked the door open with force.  
  
Their eyes met over the large circular tubes and the chaos around, causing Tony to smirk and Bruce to glower. The shorter man then made a presenting sweep around the workshop and his own body. “Couldn't wait to see me, eh? If I'd known you'd fly by, I would've taken another shower, but alas...” The Gothamite took in the scenery, focused on the cocksure man amidst it, and locked his jaw.  
  
“You're not dying anymore?”  
A jolly shake of the head was his answer.  
“Nope.”  
  
At the popping sound of the final syllable, Bruce nodded to himself and began to zone in on Tony.  
“Good. Then the pleasure of killing you will be all mine.”  
Before Tony could object or realize what was going on, Bruce lunged out and pinned him against the tubular construction.  
  
With a small yelp, the shorter billionaire cast him a wide-eyed stare.  
“Uh – not the reaction I'd calculated upon. Yikes, Bruce, I'm a delicate flower, ouch, hey, stop!”  
From where Wayne held the front of his wife-beater tight within his fist, he cast Tony a dark glare.  
  
_“You_ are the most impossible jerk I know! I swear to God, I really want to strangle you right now.”  
Stark wiggled his left eyebrow at him.  
“Oooh, spare me, killer. Bet I'm the only jerk you know who's got an atom smasher in his basement. Does that turn you on by any chance?”  
  
Instead of an answer, Bruce crushed his lips onto his. Tony made squealing noises when he got lifted from underneath his buttocks and carried over to the elevator. There, Bruce dropped his groping charge but continued to press him up against the wall. “Shower first. And I want to have a look at that thing in your chest.” His voice was rough from arousal since Tony was steadily running a palm over the front of his jeans.  
  
“So commanding. I let you look, but only if you'll scrub my back first.”  
  
A long, hot make-out session in Tony's obscenely large rainforest shower cabin later, the two of them were sprawled out naked on the king-size bed. Tony was glad for his well-stocked nightstand drawer that provided not only lube but also protection of the latex kind. He did not want to expose the other man to any heavy metal that still cruised around his bloodstream.

Once Bruce had disposed of the condom, he rolled on his back, pulled the covers up to his bare hips and crossed muscular arms behind his head. A purring noise and two seconds later, Tony spooned up at his side amidst the rumpled sheets. His sturdy fingers began to trace the set of well-defined pectoral muscles. Then he shook his head with a quiet snicker.

“Why I ever thought of you as a prude is completely beyond me. You're a hedonistic beast, Wayne.”  
Bruce, with eyes still closed as a great means of unspoken trust, drew a lopsided grimace.  
“Flattery's appreciated, though it's not going to keep me warming your bed for the rest of the night.”

With a few, tsking noises, Stark gave up his ministrations and also rolled onto his back.  
“Fuck out my brains, rip out my heart. That's what I get for staying alive. The world is truly cruel.”  
At his overstated lamenting, Bruce slipped one hand free to ruffle Tony's still damp mop of hair.

“It's exactly why I've got to go. A cruel world's not going to change on its own.”  
He then reopened his eyes and turned his head to look at the dark-haired man next to him.  
“I'm sure the very Iron Man will agree with me.”

Tony swatted his annoying hand away with a grumbling expression.  
“Iron Man might, but I'd rather you stayed. Guess I just cannot win against Gotham. That li'l bitch.”  
It brought out the very first, real bout of laughter to Bruce's lips, however short-lived it was.

He then peeled himself out of the warm, cozy sanctuary that was Tony's bed, and began to get dressed. “Call me tomorrow, I really want to know what Pepper said, once she sees the monstrosity downstairs for the first time.” A final kiss to a pouting set of lips, then Bruce was gone. Tony heard him rev up the engine of his sports bike soon after and yawned out loud into the following silence of his bedroom.  
  
The events of the past 72 hours began to creep up on him, and he was asleep no ten minutes later.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the "Badassium" belongs to someone else; I'm just borrowing after having read a fic titled just the same by TheManFromMars (on FF.net) who in turn has...another source of credit, if I understood correctly. 
> 
> Anyhow, whoever came up with it: Job well done!


	21. Chapter 21

With great regret, Tony had to accept the fact that The International Union of Pure and Applied Chemistry refused to name his new element after either of his choices. Moreover, Pepper refused to file a lawsuit against them, even at Tony's most explicit wish, so the billionaire left it to his assistant to look for a suitable, satisfying solution.

He was delighted to find his current suits corresponding well to the new ARC composition, and began to draw up the schematics for an even more improved Mark version, once the particle accelerator had been dismantled and stored away in one of his many secured warehouses. Regarding the unclear status of his and the Gothamite's affiliation, Tony went back for seconds three days after their first tryst.

As it turned out, he did not get disappointed. Bruce Wayne was partial to both his latest armor and to screwing within that venerable library of Wayne Manor. Maybe Tony could get used to that humongous piece of Victorian extravaganza in the foreseeable future after all. Instead of sending Tony home afterward, the two of them shared the rest of the afternoon and the evening, until Bruce wanted to get ready for the night.

After he had given the Californian billionaire a clear, flat out refusal on accompanying him on his patrols, Wayne at least allowed him to come down to the cave with him and sit in the Tumbler, while Bruce prepped his gear and arsenal. “So, what does that make us, Bruce? Screwing superheroes? Billionaire besties with benefits?” Tony poked his head out of the monstrosity of a vehicle and regarded his still cowl-less opposite.  
  
“I'll leave the categorization to that genius brain of yours. Not everything needs to have a name.” Stark pondered his evasive answer and drummed flat palms upon the roof in a steady rhythm. Soon, however, the trace of dissatisfaction left his countenance as quick as it had come and gave way to his usual flamboyant attitude. With a shark-like grin, he raised his chin and looked down.

“Should've known better than to ask the man who's silly enough not to name this freaking thing here the Batmobile. Seriously though, Batster – why's it called the Tumbler? Does it dry tumble your sexy black leather suit after your missions? Can it do laundry? Inquiring minds want to know!”

Enervated, Bruce pointed a gloved index finger up at Tony's position and down to the floor.  
“Out. I'm not letting a man in a flying trash can ridicule me. Get your butt upstairs, I need to go.”  
Graceful, Tony pushed himself up and out of the armored vehicle and hopped down next to Bruce.

“And here I thought you liked my butt so much.”  
Two large hands wound themselves around the body part in question no split second later.  
“That I do. Better watch out for it on your way home.”

The Gothamite allowed Tony to run his fingers through his hair one last time during their kiss.  
Then Bruce pulled the cowl over his face and jumped on the Tumbler in one fluent, agile motion.  
Stark clicked his tongue at the sight and put his arms akimbo.  
  
“Same goes for you, bat out of hell. Have fun tumbling around town, and don't get shot at, y'hear?”  
At the way the Gothamite's mouth moved into a smirk underneath the mask, Tony could feel himself getting hard again.  
Before Bruce slipped into the driver's seat, he paused and glanced down.

“I'll bring the laundry over once I'm done – just so you can fulfill your true purpose, Ironing Man.”  
  
Tony blew him a final kiss on his one finger salute and covered his ears when the powerful engines screamed to life soon after. He waited until Bruce had made the jump through the waterfall, and left. As he was blazing through the sky half an hour later, headed for Malibu, Tony's thoughts went back to their initial conversation. A little over Colorado, he had made up his mind and instructed Jarvis to give Pepper a call.

He needed to talk things over with her – plus, she still owed him the name of the new element he had created. One lengthy debate later, Tony decided 'Starkanium' was not that bad of a trade-off after all. “Since you're so good with pouring oil on troubled waters, dear Miss Potts, kindly let me introduce you to my next, most fathomable set of plans. I'm absolutely sure you'll love it. Here's the deal...”

 


	22. Chapter 22

~epilogue~  


Many weeks later, Alfred roused him from what had been another long, strenuous night out patrolling. Needless to say, Bruce was less than pleased. At a little after 2 pm on a Saturday, the butler was insistent, however, and forced his protege to get showered and dressed. Once Bruce had thrown a glimpse out of the window and saw a familiar sports car parking outside, he refrained from stalling any further.

He entered the salon fifteen minutes later, showered and shaved, to find Tony pacing along the east summer loggia with its view upon the manor's green gardens. Upon spotting him, Stark slipped one hand out of the pocket of his pants and snatched his sunglasses off in a casual move. After sharing a deep kiss, Bruce inhaled the familiar fragrance and watched Tony from close up.  
  
He looked healthy and vibrant and wore a smile that would have been able to light up all of dark, gritty Gotham City at once. Bruce inwardly rolled his eyes at his mushy thoughts and cleared his throat. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit? It's not like you could've called beforehand, or anything.” Tony stroked down the bottom part of his goatee with two fingers and put up a bold, sexy grin.  
  
“Thought I'd just pop in, wanted to see you. And I wasn't in the mood for plain phone sex tonight.”  
Ears burning, Bruce was glad Alfred had already closed the ancient folding doors shut behind him.  
“Fair enough. Trust you and your libido to make the most sophisticated plans.”  
  
Wayne's voice held no malice, but Stark's features began to morph into something more sincere. “Speaking of sophisticated, that's actually the gist of the whole matter here. You see, I've had plenty of time to think about stuff, once I knew I wasn't gonna kick the bucket soon. And there's this one thing that's always on my mind ever since then. And I guess I never really told you, so...”

Rolling his shoulders against a crick in his neck, Bruce nodded along upon Tony's expectant look.  
“You're sounding a bit like Elvis there, but go on.”  
His counterpart pulled a face before he stopped fiddling with his sunglasses and pocketed them.

“Shush it, funny pants, I'm serious here. See, I remember you once asked me how I'd proposed. Back then, I didn't have an answer. And I hate to leave things behind unfinished. So...” Tony then pulled out a small velvet box from his jacket. It opened to reveal a plain, silver ring. With a gesture akin to a gallant bow, he held it up in front of the Gothamite's shocked face.

“Bruce Wayne, in full command of all of your marvelous, mental faculties, I will ask you right here, officially, in that stately Manor of yours – will you marry me, once and for all?”

  
**END**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a strange, hilarious ride this has been. Thanks to everyone who decided to come along!


End file.
